#normally i would draw eve with red hair but she had it dyed

[gritsandbrits]

Eve just found out she acquired all of Adam assets in the divorce - whenener she's excited or joyful her horns sprouts flowers!

[creativeashproductions]

Mountains and Lessons // Luke Patterson

Summary: A bucket list item Reggie had had was to experience a white Christmas. He ended up dying before hand and his opportunity brings up. All Luke wants is music and warmth, not stuck on a stupid mountain in cold Colorado. Alex is excited to get out of Californai for once.

Warning: Swearing, death, angst, Christmas themed but not Christmas and fluff

Words: 4.9k

A/N: Breaks my heart that Reggie potentially never got to experience making snow angels, snow people and join a snowball fight. But my theme appears to be angst so there’s that as well.

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Masterlist

Julie had a structured routine and schedule she liked to follow in her life, not strict but definitely a guideline. Monday to Friday, like ever minor, spent the majority of the time in a classroom. After school, she would return home straight to the kitchen for a quick snack before spreading her homework on the kitchen island. The homework was typically one hour before Julie would head out to the studio for band rehearsal.

Flynn, as the band manager, had declared Friday’s to be band free just so that Julie and Flynn could hang out. Saturday’s consisted of morning band practice, the early afternoon had a songwriting session with Luke. In the late evening after an early supper, the band would head to the gig they had gotten. Sunday’s however were strictly days off from the band no matter what, the boys would go their own ways for the day as well.

Today, for the young teenager was a Friday but Flynn had strep throat confining herself to her house. No visitors and her electronics taken away to get rest. It was incredibly dull, and no one wanted to go against Flynn’s words because she could be scary.

Julie had done her homework, did her chores, revised a new song, started a new book and added more doodles to her shoes. Now she was laying on her bed staring at the ceiling with her headphones in.

“Julie?” Ray spoke from her open bedroom door. The man received no reaction with his daughter’s head in the clouds, “Julie? I need to talk to you.”

Ray walked over to his daughter to tug the bud out of her left ear bringing the girl back down to land. The teenager sat up to look at her father.

“What’s up?”

“Can you meet me in the living room?” Ray’s blue eyes crinkled at the corners from the many laughs he had shared in his lifetime. While she was confused, Julie proceeded to follow her father down to the lively decorated room.

Carlos had already been corralled to the living room couch listlessly staring in the distance with no iPad on his person. The lack of electronic was a red flag to the musician, the girl settled on the couch while Ray shifted things on the coffee table.

Once settled on the wood coffee table, he focused on his children, “We’ve always discussed big decisions in our family. We had an open discussion of retracting our initial decision to move.”

“Is this about my bed? I can clean it! I will-“

“Carlos! This isn’t about under your bed, we do need to have a conversation about that young man.” Carlos pointed one finger in Carlos’ direction before addressing the situation, “This year is the first year we’ll celebrate Christmas without…”

“Mom.” Both Carlos and Julie murmured slumping down at the stifling reminder of the loss the Molina’s had suffered.

Julie clenched her jaw, forcing the grief down as her hand crept over to hold Carlos’ hand in comfort. The glittering of his eyes and the gnawing on his lower lip dead giveaways he was losing the battle with sadness. Ever since Julie was a kid, she had always been there for Carlos, not saying they didn’t fight. Evidence as Carlos’ requesting a normal sister.

“It’s going to be different. I got offered an excellent contract by a ski resort, we could potentially renovate the bathroom.” Ray’s eyebrows came together as the touchy topic came about.

After Rose died, it had dented the Molina’s financials with the loss of income, the money didn’t matter compared to the person. When the sun shone through the dark clouds, it had affected the way the Molina’s had to live. Of course, the Molina’s had it better than most with a house over their head and food on the table.

Ray just wanted the best for his kids.

“We could build snowmen?” Carlos gleefully exclaimed beaming at the sheer image of seeing snow in person.

“That’s the thing. The ski resort hosts a handful of parties by companies and clients. The contract is photographing the events for their website. All expenses paid and it could open doors to more clients.”

The idea tore Julie in half. Not decorating the tree with her family, Tia Victoria’s tamales that changed every year and carolling with her friends. A lot of traditions wouldn’t happen that had been constant for the Molina family. New Year Eve’s movie night with Flynn wouldn’t happen; the two girls exchanged wrapped Christmas pyjamas to wear.

On the other hand, the new scenery would distract Julie from the broken Christmas holiday without Mom. Julie always wanted to experience a white Christmas for the snow angels, the snowmen, spontaneous snowball fights, sledding and hot cocoa to warm up after the cold.

In the end, it was the glee on Carlos’ face and the excitement on her father’s that had her caving.

“Let’s do it.” Julie faked her enthusiasm before excusing herself from the conversation of Carlos’ disgusting bedroom.

The young teenager shuffled her way to the studio yearning for the piano to cheer herself up. Typically discovering the guys playing music alone infuriated the girl but at the moment she just wanted to mourn the change of Christmas.

“Hey!” Reggie spoke with a bright grin at the moping teenager. At the lack of reaction, his grin faltered, “Julie?”

Luke’s guitar solo came to an abrupt halt seeing the forlorn girl slumping on the piano bench staring listlessly at the ivory keys. The melancholy aura gave the boys a sick feeling in their bellies, Luke wondered if her grades weren’t at Ray’s standard. Alex wondered if she had a fight with Flynn and Reggie just wanted to hug her.

Reggie did so. His arms wrapped around her shoulders in comfort, and he thanked whatever deity there was at finally being able to hug her. After Caleb and the weird situation, the OG Sunset Curve turned into glow sticks touch had become prevalent. Reggie had a secret handshake with Julie. When Alex got overwhelmed over his anxiety escalated, he would braid Julie’s hair and play with her fingers; when this happened, she never physically touched him unless he asked. Luke was a different story.

Luke’s love language is obviously physical affection, he would hug the living girl, gives high fives, grasp her hand to squeeze it. He’d also sit as close as possible for their legs to touch. It was a way for Luke to feel real.

“What’s wrong, Jay?” Alex asked, approaching the piano to heave himself on top of it. His concerned blue eyes on the teenager.

“This is the first Christmas without my Mom.” She revealed, the desolation drawing Luke to be closer to his friends.

If the boys’ had beating hearts, they would have stuttered and shattered, seeing the sorrow overflow in Julie’s eyes. In a short time, they had spent with her since the first night they had come to care about each other immensely.

 “I’m so sorry,” Alex spoke scootching closer to lay his hand on the limp hand resting on the piano top. The smile of thanks warming the drummer inside.

“Dad got this perfect job at a ski resort. It’s good money, and Carlos is excited. I don’t want to spend Christmas somewhere else. I want to be here; I want to go carolling with you guys. I want New Year’s Eve movie night with Flynn, I want to fight Carlos on who gets to put the star on the tree. I want to bake cookie.” Julie broke, “Sure a white Christmas would be cool, but this is home.”

 “It’s not about where you celebrate. It’s about who you celebrate with Jules.” Luke quietly spoke up physically with them but mentally elsewhere.

His mind returned to the night in December that irrevocably altered his relationship with his parents’. He had tainted Christmas for himself and his family when he stormed out never to return. He would give anything to spend a Christmas, a birthday, or even a Mother’s Day with his parents just one more time. A consolation to the guitarist was easing his parents’ pain with Unsaid Emily.

“You’ll get to build snowmen?” Reggie questioned pouting at his lifer friend who giggled at his look of betrayal, “I was going to spend Christmas at my uncle’s place in Washington before we died.”

Reggie’s words didn’t change the sombre atmosphere, but it did flip a switch in Julie’s mind. Julie could create new traditions with her new family as well.

“We’ll get to build snowmen.”

“How? We’ll be here. You’ll be wherever the resort it.” Reggie interjected with a twisted smile at Julie’s words. The young girl rolled her eyes at him, “We can’t crash your family vacation. It’s Christmas.”

“Reg, you wouldn’t be ‘crashing’ the family vacation. You three are part of my family.” Julie’s words had to be the most touching thing the boys had heard in years, both the twenty-five dead and from 1990-1995.

“I’m so excited!” Reggie beamed, “I have to go, thank Ray!”

With that, the ghostly teenager disappeared in a bright ball of light to the house where Ray was most likely accepting the job. While Luke and Reggie didn’t know boundaries, they sure could make things better for their friends.

The giggle came from the girl bundled up in layers tossed a packed ball of snow at the enemy behind the other snow fort. The sharp laugh of her opponents warming you up more than hot cocoa, well the layers were unnecessary. But, what’s winter without the bundled up outer clothing.

“Surrender!” You called out throwing the new ball high with the hope it would land on the other person. It hit the top of the wall instead.

Lucy was just about to return fire with one of her pre-made snow weapons when the resort’s main building front door opened. Backlit by the lights giving a heavenly glow was a woman of average height. Greying hair scooped up in an elegant style, and thick clothing stood Lucy’s mom.

Your heart clenched at the visible sadness on the woman’s face as her eyes found the mountain in the distance. It had been a constant in the last seven years of the year-round residents and the plaque on the property. Lucy’s family had never properly healed from the tragic event, but they also could bear to leave the place either.

Fox & Hare Ski Resort had been in the ownership of the same family for over a hundred years, a place of happiness. A place where Lucy had loved as a massive fan of skiing and wintertime, Lucy was excited for this year the most. It was Lucy’s third year of lessons with a very well respected and highly sought out trainer.

“Bye!” Lucy spoke to the now standing young adult. Her little feet dashing to the main building for supper with her parents.

Your eyes found the parking lot as a car pulled up to one the spaces reserved for staff; his looks matched the temporary photographer. With him was a young boy and a teenage girl about your own age. All bundled up for the cold climate, but you were most surprised at the sudden appearance of three males.

They had to ghosts. If the teleporting wasn’t obvious enough, it was the lack of warm clothes. For God’s sake, one of them didn’t even have sleeves.

“Hm interesting.” You hummed scrutinizing the trio following the other three aimlessly to the building. You pegged them as about your age with a very vintage style in both fashion and hairstyles.

The luggage clicked on each transition to another board on the porch ramp for accessibility a welcome sound. Just another daily occurrence that brought peace to the individual. Unable to hold yourself back, you quickly scooped up three snowballs.

The first hit the taller boy in the back of the head. When his head swivelled, he couldn’t see the person that did it. Shaking it off, he turned back to view the mountain. Sprinting to the vast sea of trees you stopped halfway to chuck the second snowball. It hit the guy in the leather jacket.

You ducked behind the tree when he loudly protested the sudden attack. With a wicked grin, you went to send the third one before you yelped.

“Nu-uh.” The sudden voice spoke clicking his tongue. Slowly turning you saw the last boy staring you down, “You should have left Reggie for last. He’s very loud, he’s a personal alarm.”

Your mouth opened as the other two appeared, “I’ve never had a snowball fight before!”

You took a guess that was Reggie.

“I’m Y/N.” You spoke holding out for hand for the three to shake. They each introduced themselves; your first hit was Alex, the second was Reggie, and the failed hit was Luke.

“What brings you to Colorado?” You asked shoving your hands in your snow pants bouncing on the heels of your feet. The crunch of snow under them unfamiliar to the trio.

“Our band member is staying here for two weeks. Her dad got a photography gig.” Alex spoke, scanning the area, “So, are you a ghost?”

“I’m a tour guide and area expert.” You beamed revealing a big smile to the three guys standing in the powdered snow.

The cheery light in your eyes, easing the ghosts in the unfamiliar landscape, each a juxtaposition to the climate. Nodding towards the rental shop, you guided them into the average-sized building for the necessary winter wear. Seasoned with your background working in the shop, you quickly grabbed items that wouldn’t be noticed for them.

“We don’t nee-“

“Gotta live the experience. I used to work in here, so I’ve taken the liberty to group your gear. Alex, you have light blue and pink. Reggie red and black leaving the dark blue for Luke.”

You wore a seafoam green ski jacket and matching snow pants paired with the trusty black boots. While the boys dressed in the clothing you chose, you collected your things as well. As soon as they finished, they turned to see you had a snowboard lilac to the dark purple-black gradient. On the top of the board in the middle had a moon with the white foam of the ocean. On the lilac background, the deep purple cut the moon in half, the deep purple background had the lilac moon half. The black had a rough outline of a circle similar to the moon on the front with BURTON in the ring.

“I had a different board.” Your smile faltered, remembering the beautiful board your parents had gotten you for your birthday.

“What happened to it?” Luke questioned scanning the room for the board.

“It snapped in half.” You stated practically skipping out the door, “C’mon! I wanna teach you how to kill it on the mountain! Have you ever done this? Skiing or snowboarding?”

“Neither,” Alex spoke glancing around the area as you led them to the Gondola lifts that brought people to the top of the mountain. This one specifically for the beginner levels perfect for the three new friends, “We’re born and bred in California, never got the opportunity to travel outside the state.

“Well, I’ll try my very best to give you a good experience on the mountain..”

Once released from the Gondola, you jogged to the side giggling at the sight of them struggling to walk in the heavy boots. Near the Gondola, the area was the shift ski patrol building with the heated bathroom. The building along with the bench had been a new addition a few years ago. It never failed to halt you to stare at it for a handful of seconds.

“Okay, so we’ll start with the basics.” You announced clapping your hands together in the thick mittens.

Alex picked up the activity naturally with confidence and calmness he couldn’t even remember last feeling. He had to focus on his movements and directions, giving him a welcomed break from his overthinking. Luke had started his angry pout with his accurate portrayal of newborn Bambi.

“I’m just going to take a break,” Luke muttered wheezing from his sudden position staring at the sky. Taking pity on the Californian boy, you pressed the release function on his boots.

“I think Reggie’s at the ski patrol building.” You called to the boy with the fringe sulking in the direction of Reggie. It left you with Alex learning new hacks to the board.

“This is fun!” Alex shouted, raising his mouth to the sky, “Ooh Willie would love yelling up here.”

“Ghost?” You asked, receiving a nod in response, taking the time to sit down with your knees raised—the board on the edge still connected to your boots.

Alex flailed as he copied you taking in the sunset, backlight the buildings slowly turning their nights one at a time. The large main building would have a fire for everyone with supplied hot cocoa. Tomorrow the mountain would be less populated with the first of many Christmas parties. The crisp air welcomed high above the buildings you felt peace.

“Is it safe to get off the mountain at night?” Alex asked, hugging his knees to his chest, tilting his head to look at your profile.

The smile was small but warm on the girls face as Alex took in her features that had a particular contentness that is hard to attain. Alex could see in Luke when he finished a song he would deem his best work before the next song. Or Reggie at a beach bonfire with the ocean crashing faintly behind Luke’s acoustic guitar.

“Yeah.” You replied smoothly removing your board from your boots to carry it to where Luke and Reggie were. You backtracked to ensure Alex released his boots; his fast learning evident when he stood with a proud smile.

Alex and you both surveyed the area for any lost items or gear you may have forgotten about, coming up clear you continued walking. Reggie and Luke were laughing with their skiis neatly put aside. Hands locked in a fierce game of rock, paper, scissors they looked childlike and untouched by life’s hard teachings.

“I’ll put my board in the Gondola. Be right back!” You called over your shoulder. Alex looked over his shoulder to reply, but the space was empty.

“She moves fast,” Alex muttered shaking it off to jog closer to the boys. He was close to sitting down on the bench when it caught his attention.

“Whoa. That’s nasty.” Alex spoke, gaining his bandmates attention to the bench they had overlooked.

The bench was made out of two snowboards in stone and wood combinations with a gorgeous design. Pieces of the snowboard made to look like a nearly finished puzzle—a plaque on a thick post behind it.

“For the girl who changed the sport for women. Fast like a fox, as graceful as a swan, may you guide lost souls to safety.” Reggie read off the plaque. Luke’s fingers went to brush the ice and snow clouding the picture above the words.

“You guys coming?” You yelled from a distance startling all three intrigued teenage ghosts. Their eyes glanced at the edge of the board in the picture that matched the bench.

“Thanks for that by the way,” Luke spoke gesturing to the area as the Gondola moved down the mountain. His eyes greener in the dimly lit enclosure that shadowed your flustered features at the sole attention.

“I’m on the mountain every day. It was fun talking with people my age.” You informed them pleased to sit in the silence. The three took in the sunset from the height with no buildings blocking the view, “If you can’t find me, I’ll be on the mountain.”

Once back on the bottom of the mountain, the four teenagers snuck the equipment in your personal shack to dry and keep hidden for future lessons. The three guys bid farewell to find Julie in the large cabin, each with beaming smiles and stories to tell the girl.

“Where’ve you guys been?” Julie asked the ghosts in the tucked-away corner near the massive fire ceasing her scribbling to look at them, “Usually I can’t shake you. I had to sit through a safety talk by the director for the mountain.”

“This wicked girl taught us how to snowboard! She’s so cool, Julie. There’s this passion in her when we got on the mountain. The passion that we all have for music!” Luke gushed, breaking his cool guy personality, “She’s so patient.”

“What’s her name?” Julie laughed, getting a first-hand look at Luke all crushed out on someone. His cheeks a rosy pink and soft eyes it amused Julie just imagining the number of love songs he would pen.

“Y/N.” Luke sighed slouching against the wall, “She’s so pretty.”

“-once more, I ask that you check every morning and afternoon for weather conditions, the local Avalanche Information Center website and be aware of our maps for potential avalanche areas. We have a live app that gives updates as well. Just a reminder that I’m Susan and you can also have the ski patrol contact me for further information. Enjoy your stay!” Susan called out gracefully cutting through the crowd to Lucy falling asleep in her chair.

”I heard some lady talking to her friends that the safety regulations and rules increased after an avalanche killed someone. I didn’t catch the name, but it took weeks before they found the bodies, they found the board in a few days.” Julie supplied with a half-smile at another reminder of death.

The three boys had a moment of clarity. They put the pieces together that the bench made of the boards was in memory of the person who died. It was a bitter moment of potentially standing where a person tragically killed with no warning.

“Anyway, I have to meet Dad and Carlos in the room. Have to video call Tía as her stressed wishes for not being home.” Julie sighed, pushing her feet into the slippers, she left the dino ones at home, she had grabbed from the room.

A few days into the Molina’s white Christmas it had been a charming morning thus far. The guys had done a songwriting session for most of the morning. Luke’s eyes continued to scan the room for you as he had since the first day. He had yet to see you inside, if the ghostly trio wasn’t on the mountain with you, then you were playing with Lucy.

 Julie and the Phantoms had retreated to the suite the Molina’s had been assigned when the weather looked questionable. Most of the tourists had either stayed in their rooms, cabins or in the main building. It led to Julie taking the session to the privacy of the suite to avoid looking like a crazy person.

“I need to stretch. Walk?” Reggie asked, gaining different sounds of agreement from the band.

The four individuals walked to the main lounging area where a crowd formed around the makeshift stage. On it was Susan shaking in her husband’s arms.

“Please, has anyone seen Lucy?” Susan sobbed, “She’s ten years old. She’s got blue eyes, ginger hair and she’s small for her age.”

Julie joined her father near the crowd, where he swiftly brought his eldest child into his arms with Carlos. Ray’s heart clenched at the thought of his kids going missing like the owner of Fox & Hare owners.

“Dad’s what’s going on?” Julie questioned viewing the blownup picture of a little girl, the perfect split of her parents.

“Susan Fox’s daughter Lucy didn’t show up for breakfast. They thought she was playing just outside the building. No one has seen her. There have been warnings of avalanches, and the mountain was closed twenty minutes ago. ” Ray told his daughter squeezing her once more cementing his gaze on the couple, “It’s devastating to them.”

“Why?” Julie questioned for the concerned ghostly trio at her side.

“A few years ago, Susan and her husband closed the resort for a few months. They completely gutted their regulations and worked closely with avalanche experts. They upgraded the area for increased safety and reworked the rules and regulations.”

 “What does it have to do with Lucy?” The Puerto Rican girl questioned furrowing her brow in the same way her mother had. Julie had scrapped back her hair into a half-up ponytail this morning.

“They did all that because they lost their daughter in a slab avalanche when Lucy was three. Slab avalanches are the most dangerous type, they make up 90% of avalanche deaths.” Ray sighed, staring up at the snow-capped looming mountain, “It took weeks to recover her body, there’s a bench on the mountain where she loved to snowboard. She was training for the Olympics actually.”

Luke’s attention faded from the conversation recalling that you would be on the mountain at dawn to watch the sunrise. In the sudden motion, Luke stumbled over his own feet heading straight for the shack. His mind is numb as he applied the gear to his body, the movements keeping him from panicking. Luke sensed rather than saw Reggie and Alex behind him.

“What are we doing?” Alex questioned, getting dressed as well.

“Going to the mountain.” Luke was very determined. Catching Reggie’s confused gaze Luke roughly gestured to the far corner, “What’s missing?”

“Y/N’s gear.” Alex and Reggie breathed physically shaking at the desolate area where a gorgeous board usually was. That lit a fire under their asses for sure, grateful for poofing they appeared on the mountain.

Scouring the white background, Alex pinpointed a speck of seafoam green running for a speck of bring pink and yellow. In the fear they had taken to sprinting in the bulky boots as if they felt something about to happen.

Your attention solely on Lucy, “Lucy, we need to leave now.”

For Lucy, the mountain was her life, it had been one of the things that her older sister lived and breathed for. All Lucy wanted to do was to be like her big sister. Lucy had the potential, her moves and posture striking to the late sister.

“This is the best trail!” Lucy stomped her black boot in the snow while her other one secured in her snowboard.

“It’s also one marked off for an avalanche.” You hissed to the little girl staring up with tear-filled eyes, “Please, go back.”

The unmistakable ‘whoomph’ sound shattered the otherwise quiet area freezing Lucy in her steps. The once stubborn ten years old turned petrified at the sheet of snow coming straight for the two girls.

“Slab avalanche.” The words covered by the snapping of trees. Your arms yanked Lucy up as you raced perpendicular to the moving snow.

Your ears couldn’t distinguish between Lucy’s screams, your screams or even the loud sound of the destructive avalanche. The alarm and terror drowning your insides, leaving no room for thoughts, only actions. Lucy’s small stature and the years you had on the location helped to dive into a safe zone.

Even in the safe zone, you raced further to collapse with Lucy’s inconsolable body quaking in absolute distress. The tears of relief fell down your face as you leaned against the bench of the memorial. Your head thumped the bench causing a puff of snow to fall on your hat.

“Holy shit.” The sob of words from Luke came before his arms wrapped around you. With being able to touch Julie, the guys didn’t get alarmed at the sight.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Alex frantically scanned the little girl before moving towards you in the same amount of fear. Reggie rendered speechless at the events.

“What the hell were you thinking!” Luke shouted, lunging away to stare you down. Tears streaking his own cheeks, “You’re also preaching the safety rules of the resort. You definitely read the reports and decided to come on the mountain?”

“Luke,” Reggie mumbled remaining the only one standing. His words went ignored, “Luke! LUKE!”

“What!?” Luke snapped resulting in the bassist flinching at the stark memory of his home life, “Sorry, Reggie. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think Y/N was ever in danger,” Reggie stated, bringing both confused boys to where he stood.

There above the bench uncovered by the snow that melted on Y/N’s thick toque was a picture. Above the quote was a picture of a girl holding the snowboard the bench was made of. Wearing a unique matching snow set was the exact replica of the girl Luke had fallen for.

“Holy shit.” Luke and Alex murmured gaping at the picture and the name of the girl who had died.

Luke recalled things you said,

“I used to work in here.”

“It snapped in half.”

“It was fun talking with people my age.”

Luke’s mind went a step further recalling the first lesson you gave the guys where you went from the bench to the Gondola in a short time. How people didn’t react to you, the ski patrol that ignored you every time on the mountain with them.

“You’re the daughter that died in the avalanche.” Luke gasped, dropping his jaw nearly to the snow-packed ground.

“Exactly seven years ago today.” You replied, keeping your eyes glued to your little sister yearning to comfort here, “Reggie, can you go in the building and press the red button? It’s a signal sender for people sheltering from the conditions.”

Nothing could meet the feeling of your parents weeping along with Lucy after the medic deemed her okay. While you wish you could join the hug, you also knew that things happened for a reason. The feeling that same with kissing Luke could never meet the level of happiness at Lucy’s safety.

I came close to killing ten year old Lucy in this but decided not to be cruel.

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[yehet-me-up]

Surrender

PAIRING: Kihyun x reader

RATING: M for language/sexy times

GENRE: Enemies to lovers, smut

WORD COUNT: 4,695

SUMMARY: How do you choose dignity over desire when ever inch of your body is screaming for release?

Monsta X Kinks series part seven: Blindfold 🙈

He is not your boyfriend. Not anymore.

He should be no one to you. He should absolutely not matter.

But despite all of these obvious and logical facts, you can't stop paying attention to him.

From the bar he watches you dance like you're his personal entertainment for the evening. He takes a swallow of what looks to be a gin and tonic and grimaces at the taste. With heavy-lidded eyes he licks the alcohol off his bottom lip and stares at your ass in a way that really should piss you off.

Unfortunately for your sanity, and for your long-standing hatred of him, it's only succeeding in turning you on. Bastard.

Not that you have one these days; a boyfriend, that is. Even if you did, it wouldn't be Yoo fucking Kihyun. The only problem is, he doesn’t seem to have gotten the message.

Your partner in crime for the evening, Kellee, notices immediately, snapping dramatically in your face. 'No.’

You raise your brows innocently. ‘What?’

‘I see who you’re looking at. Just ignore him,' Kellee says over the music. 'He's an ass.'

She tugs on your arm and you reluctantly take your eyes away from his annoyingly angular jaw and perfectly styled hair. She purses her lips at you and folds her arms with a mixture of amusement and annoyance as she dances in her mid-thigh, long-sleeve, black sequinned dress.

‘We’re here to celebrate, remember? Not take a walk down awful memory avenue.’

Right. New Year's Eve. Party at Cherry Blossom. How does he still make me lose track of space and time after all these years?

'I know,' you say, sighing loudly.

Kellee points a finger at you and laughs at the hesitation in your voice. 'Excuse me. We hate him, right?'

'He looks good though.' The cut of his crisp black dress shirt, the expensive Rolex on his wrist, the way his lips twist into a possessive smirk as he meets your eyes. You turn back to Kellee and feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

'Shit, he saw me.' You raise your eyes to the ceiling for divine intervention. Of all the nightclubs in all the boroughs in all of New York...

Kellee holds both of your wrists in her hands and forces you to focus on her through the haze of Vodka crans in your blood and the bass so heavy it vibrates along your skin. 'He ditched you the night of senior prom to hook up with Brandi Walters!'

Memories of him in high school flood your mind. The way the air felt like it was sucked out of your lungs when he smiled at you, blushing and asking you out. The tentative press of his mouth against yours for the first time. The enormous and cheesy and perfect poster he made to ask you to be his girlfriend, that’s probably still gathering dust in your closet.

But then...the look on Kellee’s face when she tried to hide the video from you. Brandi’s hands all over Kihyun, when he was supposed to be on his way over to pick you up for prom. Her mouth on his neck. Even college and two more years in between you can still feel how heartbroken you were that night.

You shake your head, disgusted at yourself. 'Jesus Christ, you're right. Who cares about him, anyways? There's plenty of other guys here.'

'Exactly,' Kellee exclaims, smacking you on the butt. 'We've been working so hard on this case I haven't been laid in months, I'm dying.'

While she shakes her ass to a remix of your favorite Majid Jordan song, you scan the room. The guy with the spray tan and the tacky barbed wire bicep tat sitting on the couches? Nah. The hipster with the wire frame glasses and the trying-too-hard plaid shirt? Ugh. Just when you’re about to give up, you see him.

A man with ridiculously hot facial hair and a mischievous look in his eyes leans against the bar on the opposite side from Kihyun. His shirt is a rather disastrous shade of red, but who cares? Something about seeing Kihyun tonight makes your hands sweat. Every brush of your thighs against each other sends a shock of need to your core. You’re not looking for a husband tonight. Anyone but Kihyun will do just fine.

‘Fuck it,’ you say, the sound drowned out by the bass.

On a more civilized night such as oh, literally any other day of the year, you'd be more inclined to flirt and give someone your number. Go on some dates. Let things unfold naturally, easily.

But whatever chaotic and thirsty energy settles upon the city on New Year's Eve each year pushes you to find something more... immediate to relieve your tension. Kellee is right, it's been ages. And you need something more than your trusty vibrator tonight.

You get Kellee’s attention and motion subtly to the guy in the red shirt. She squeals excitedly and waves you on. With a laugh you make your way through the crowd up to the bar. You eye Kihyun surreptitiously as you walk, wishing you didn't know how well he could undo you with just his hands and his mouth.

Prom was supposed to be it, the night you finally slept together after a few months of dating. The night you finally went to home base, or whatever that fucking analogy worked out to be. But then he screwed it up and you never found out if he knew how to use the rest of the, ahem, tools at his arsenal. Pity.

Tonight, you want a face buried in your neck. You want teeth against your skin and hands on your hips, insistent and rough enough to leave a faint purple outline of fingerprints in the morning. Tonight you want to be fucked so hard that the stress of the last few months of law school fall away like a snakeskin. Tonight you want to come so many times your legs shake and you leave scratch marks down someone's back.

Tonight you want to be 'raw and exposed,' a favorite expression of you and Kellee’s. Normally it’s a joke, but tonight you mean it literally. And you want it with anyone but Yoo Kihyun.

Red shirt's eyes follow your legs as you climb the short stairs up to the bar. The satin of your red dress teases the skin of your thighs, clinging to you in the warmth of the bar. The short sleeves and the skirt are loose and flowing but neither red shirt nor Kihyun can ignore the way the neckline cuts low and hugs tight to your ample chest.

He smiles as you pass, expecting you to come to him. But tonight you're a lion dressed as a lamb, a huntress pretending to be prey. Come and get it, you think. You return his friendly grin as you move behind him.

Red shirt catches on quickly. ‘Hey, can I buy you a drink?’

Unfortunately, you agree to the drink before you learn three things that would make you not sleep with him under any circumstance.

First, his cologne is downright awful. Thirteen year old boys swiping samples of Axe body spray from magazines smell better. Second, he proudly and happily tells you he’s drinking O’Douls… because he likes the taste. Third, the only thing he’s interested in talking about tonight is the Lakers/Clippers game on tonight.

After ten minutes you desperately look for Kellee on the floor, hoping she’ll come save you. But she’s happily grinding with a Chad Michael Murray circa 2007 lookalike and you wish her well. You roll your eyes as politely and as covertly as you can when red shirt mentions Lebron’s ‘sick lay-up’ for about the twentieth time and unfortunately you meet Kihyun’s focus.

He grins at you while he talks with the woman behind the bar, raising a brow in question. You can almost hear him asking if you need to be rescued. Infuriated, you turn back to red shirt, ignoring him… almost. Out of the corner of your eye you watch as he runs a finger along the rim of his glass before drawing it into his mouth. Another swipe of his tongue along the plump bottom lip and you can see it gleam from clear across the bar.

You want to whine in frustration and need. Sure, you could excuse yourself. Tell red shirt you need to meet your friend. But, when it comes to Yoo Kihyun, you did always like playing with fire.

With an exaggerated sigh you subtly nod to him. Triumph and heat flare in his eyes as he makes his way over to you. Rolling up his sleeves, he exposes taut forearms and you distantly remember the way they felt pressed against the tender skin of your waist.

Kihyun slides next to you, his arm effortlessly coming around your waist. His hand finds your hip comfortably and rests high enough to be respectful. He bends and presses a kiss to the exposed skin of your shoulder, lips lingering, sending a jolt of awareness down your spine. The scent of his rich cologne wraps around you and you almost sigh with relief.

Red shirt, who you now know is named John, blinks in surprise. 'Who's this?'

Kihyun suppresses a laugh and says against your ear, 'sorry I'm late darling, I can't believe I kept the most beautiful woman in the world waiting.' He holds out his hand to John. 'Thanks for keeping her company for me. I'm Kihyun.'

Guy looks perplexed, but to his credit he shrugs it off fast. 'John. Have a great night, Y/N.'

The moment John turns back to his group of friends Kihyun leans against the bar, smug smile on his infuriatingly handsome face.

You snort and try to walk past him, rolling your eyes. ‘Thanks.’

His arm comes out to block your path. ‘Going so soon, darling?’

‘Ugh, you’re disgusting,’ you say, folding your arms. ‘Did you know that?’

He motions to the bartender and instantly two Vodka crans appear. Kihyun hands you one with a playful smile. ‘I did know that, in fact.’ He takes a large sip of his. ‘But despite that, you did still let me help you.’

You hold the drink as though it’s a grenade, liable to go off at any second. ‘I was desperate. If I had to listen to another three seconds of audio commentary of a goddamn basketball game I was going to run out of here screaming. Don’t flatter yourself.’

He eyes you from the tips of your heels to the top of your hair. ‘I’d so much rather you flatter me.’

A feeling almost like anger, but with far too much arousal fills your veins and you almost snarl at him. ‘What makes you think I’d want anything to do with you?’

Kihyun raises his hands in surrender and stands, facing you. He clinks his glass to yours and downs the rest of the liquid in one swallow. ‘I know you don’t want anything to do with me anymore. You made that very clear at Senior prom.’

Your mouth drops open. ‘Wow. Bold of you to bring that up, after what you did.’

‘What I did?’ His brows furrow. ‘After you ditched me, you mean? I have to say the hostile and condescending tone is what I expected given how you ignored me after that night. But I hoped you’d grown out of it.’

‘After I ditched you?’ You step closer, narrowing your eyes at him. ‘I saw the video of you and Brandi. Why would I wait around like a fool after that?’

He grits his teeth. ‘Is that what you think happened? Brandi was my friend Jay’s date and she was so drunk from the pre-gaming that she couldn’t even walk on her own. I was helping to get her into my car so we could take her to the clinic. Is that what you saw?’

‘I-’ you start. ‘Even if I believe you, which I don’t, how do I know you’re telling the truth?’

Kihyun runs a frustrated hand through his hair. ‘You could ask the nurse at the clinic. Or the dozens of people at prom who saw me show up just after ten, wondering why my girlfriend hasn’t answered any of my dozen texts or calls.’

You worry your lip between your teeth. ‘Kellee took my phone. She didn’t want me to get hurt any worse.’

He sighs and laughs to himself. ‘Well, that would explain quite a lot.’

Suddenly, you want to reach for him. To force him to look into your eyes and tell you the past six years were just a dream. ‘So you really didn’t cheat on me?’

The warmth and surprise in his brown eyes almost undoes you. ‘No, I didn’t. And I guess you didn’t ditch me either.’ You shake your head. ‘Huh.’

You pick up the drink and take a big sip. ‘Huh, indeed.’

Kihyun does the same, a smile playing on his lips. The alcohol and the music and the sweat running down your spine from the heat of the room and the goddamn way Kihyun is watching you over the rim of his glass - it’s all going to your head and you reach a hand for his arm to ground yourself.

‘Come home with me.’ He steps closer, hands finding your waist. ‘I believe we have some unfinished business.’

You make a noise of disbelief. ‘You don’t know anything about me, Kihyun. Not anymore.’

His lips find the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. ‘I want to know everything.’

His hands draw slowly down your side, moving around your lower back. ‘I want to hear all about your job or school, however you fill your days. I want to know where you’re living now, and about your friends, and if you have any adorable pets.’

He eases your back against the bar, pressing himself into all of your curves. ‘I want to know how you like your coffee in the morning.’

Kihyun pulls back, breathless, his eyes turning black in the low lighting. ‘But right now, more than anything, I want to know how it feels to be inside you.’ You gasp and he traces his lips along the shell of your ear. ‘And what it feels like when you come around me.’

You nod, groaning as he pulls your ear lobe between his teeth. All you can manage is a needy, ‘please.’

He grins, pulling you through the dance floor. ‘You tell your friend you’re leaving, I’ll get the car.’

Before you can say anything he pauses on the stairs and kisses you fully on the mouth. In your surprise you can only hold onto his shoulders to try and steady yourself. It’s only a preview of what’s to come but already the hot slide of his lips against yours, the insistent tugging his teeth do as they nip your full lower lip, makes you feel desperate to have him inside you.

He pulls back and laughs. At least he has the decency to look just as flustered as you feel. ‘Sorry, I - it’s been so long. I missed that.’

You shake your head at him as he heads off to a side door. ‘Wait! Don’t we need to pay?’

Kihyun winks. ‘I own the bar!’ he calls above the music before disappearing out into the night.

Amused, you tilt your head back and laugh. Of course he does. 

Excitement thrums in your veins as you find Kellee and give her the shortest possible version of the story. She watches you carefully and makes you promise to text at least twice tonight so she knows your safe. After many reassurances and a dash to coat check, you emerge out the front. Fear tells you he’s left you again and this is all just a stupid prank.

But no. He rolls down the window of his Porche and tilts his head. ‘Get in.’

The seats are plush and match your dress coincidentally. He turns on the radio, more from a desire to distract from the obvious erection he's sporting than for any particular urge to listen to jazz. 

For the first minute of the drive you focus on slowing your breathing, savoring the unexpected catharsis that being with him tonight is bringing you. An old wound in your chest undone, emotion bleeds out onto your skin in a healing wave. It surrounds you like steam in a sauna, the way you want him feels palpable on your lips and hands and at the meeting of your thighs.

Once you accept this new reality you look at him, wondering how far to push him. If this Kihyun is as romantic and sweet as the one you knew in high school, or if this new version has a bit of bite. He holds his jaw tight, the muscles in his neck working to concentrate on the road. Unable to resist you slowly reach your hand across the gearshift and rest it on his thigh.

He meets your gaze for a beat and something shimmers within - a heat and need that match your own. As the sultry music plays you lean across the seat and rest your chin on his shoulder. Slowly, so slowly he groans, you drag your hand up towards his obvious need. With featherlight touches you kiss his neck above his collar.

When you reach his hard cock, settling over the length covered by the fabric of his pants, you bite down on his earlobe. The car jerks to a stop and you look out the windshield, terrified you've somehow made him crash with your tentative efforts at seduction. Thankfully, it appears you've arrived at his house. The townhome is modern, two-stories, and instantly you wonder what the bedroom is like.

'We should get inside,' he says darkly. 'If I touch you here, we won't leave until I'm inside you.'

With a laugh, you nod. 'That's probably a good idea.'

For a long moment you stare at each other. Taking in the flush in his cheeks, the way the heat of his skin kept some of the red of your lipstick as a souvenir. No doubt he can read the arousal in your blood. The way the strap of your dress is sliding off your shoulder, begging to be removed.

He looks like he's about to risk it and kiss you, but at the last moment he grunts and opens his car door. A beat later and he opens yours, holding his hand out to you. Once, this was so natural. Being with him, trusting him, your palms and lips and hearts never far from each other. As he guides you inside you wonder about the distance from that time to now. If this is just one good fuck between exes or if he expects there to be more; if you do.

In his exuberance he accidentally slams the door open, the sound too hard against the wall behind it. He seems frustrated by the sheer distance and pulls you into his arms before shutting the door with one hand and leaning you against it. Breathless, you cling to his shoulders, wondering if he means to swallow you whole, unmaking you as the tide does to the sand.

He notices your hesitation and brings a hand to cup your face. 'Hey, what is it?' His breath ghosts across your cheek at his whispered soft words.

'It's stupid, but -'

'Tell me,' he asks and smiles softly.

'It's been so long, Kihyun. I'm just nervous it won't be like we're hoping. I don't even know what you want. Do you just want tonight or-'

He closes this distance and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. 'I want you tonight. I want you for a long time. It's always been you, you know. I've tried to date other people but... I just want you.'

'Really?'

His hands pull at your waist, moulding your body closer against his. 'Yes, really. I can't guarantee the first time will be perfect,' he says, his lips ghosting along yours. 'I want it to be. I want you to laugh and smile and sigh and moan just as I dreamed you would. I want to hold you after and fall asleep with your heart beating against mine and your leg wrapped around my waist.'

You giggle and kiss him back. He's been many things in the time you've known him, but he's never been a liar. 'Okay.'

Kihyun grins against your lips and bends, lifting you into his arms. Your dress slides up, exposing you to his eager hands. 'Just okay?'

You squeal and hold onto his shoulders to stay upright. 'Better than okay.'

'Good,' he answers. ‘If at any point you want me to stop, just say the word.’

He does his best to walk upstairs with you in his arms and his mouth on your neck. His erection strains against your thigh, making him groan. You absolutely make it worse by tugging on his hair and moaning at his tongue on the sensitive nerves where your shoulder meets your neck. 

With his hands full he manages to find the bed, tripping and dropping you onto the plush comforter. He falls after you, laughing, landing in a tangle of arms and limbs.

Righting himself he grins, running a hand through his hair. 'Stay right there, I have something I think might help.'

You kick off your heels and use your elbows to move you further onto the bed, watching with curiosity as he impatiently strips off his jacket and shirt. 'Hey, no fair. I wanted to do that,' you pout.

He gives you a dangerous smirk before he starts digging in his closet. Triumphant, he pulls out a black tie. ‘Would this help?’

Your jaw drops open. 'You want to tie me up? Blindfold me? So you want me to trust you by not letting me move or see anything?' You raise a brow at him.

Kihyun laughs and removes his shoes and socks. He climbs onto the bed, scooting so his back rests against the headboard, his legs spread out in front of him. His chest moves as he breathes, as though he's been running. 'No. I want you to use it on me.'

Something warm and bright flashes in your chest. 'Oh!'

His eyes go wide. 'You don't have to! I mean... I just thought-'

Desire makes you clench your thighs together. Excitement and curiosity make you crawl across the bed to him. 'No, I want to. It's perfect,' you smile, straddling him.

He smiles and sets it beside him on the bed. 'I have one thing I want to see first.' His hands toy with the edges of your dress. 

When you nod he lifts the fabric over your head. Before it hits the ground the heat of his palms warms your hips. He strokes over the sensitive skin of your side and you moan, dropping your forehead to his shoulder.

Kihyun eases your bra off you so gently you sigh. 'God, you're so beautiful. I missed this.' He kisses along your shoulder and down your arm, holding up your hand so he can kiss your palm. 'I missed you.'

'I missed you too.' You stay like that for a minute before the hard feel of him pressing against your core demands attention. 'Now please make love to me before I lose my mind.'

He thows his head back and laughs. In quick succession he undoes the zipper of his pants and slides them off, holding you up with his hips and a hand around your waist. 'Your wish is my command.' He gives you a wink before grabbing the tie and securing it around his head.

His chest rises and falls as he breathes, waiting to see what you’ll do, hands obediently resting on your thighs. You wave a hand in front of his face. He doesn’t move. With a grin you run a finger down his chest and he shivers. You back up and take off your underwear, throwing it to the floor. He whines and his hands reach for you, already demanding to touch you again.

When you straddle him again, he sucks in a sharp inhale of breath. He peeks out from under the tie with one finger. ‘I’m in your control tonight,' he says warmly. 'You set the pace.' 

Quickly, he fumbles in his nightstand and retrieves a condom, handing it to you as though it were a precious package. 'I trust you.’

You purse your lips at him, trying not to laugh, and he settles the blindfold back over his eyes. Despite how wet you are, and how desperate you are to sit yourself on his cock, you resolve not to take him inside you until he begs for it. You ease the fabric over his erection and take him in your hand. 

After tearing the wrapper you roll the condom down his length. Slowly, you begin to stroke him. He grunts and his fingers dig into the flesh of your now naked hips.

With your free hand you slide two fingers across your slit, gathering the moisture there. You add your second hand to the motion of the first, coating him in your wetness and easing your stroke. Kihyun bites his lip, pressing his head back against the headboard. The veins stand out against his throat and you dip your head and run your tongue along one.

‘Fuck, I’m going to come before I even get inside you,’ he groans, high, whining. Good enough.

Thighs pressing against his, holding his wooden headboard with one hand, you guide him to your entrance. Your arousal eases the way as you slide down and in seconds he's filled you to the hilt. 

Years ago, when you took him with your mouth and your hands, when his tongue and his agile fingers brought you to your first orgasm, you thought about what it would be like to feel him inside you. None of those fantasies prepared you for the taste of his mouth on yours or the way your bodies line up perfectly as he stretches you just enough to burn around his girth.

You can't swallow the moan that leaves you as he rocks his hips into yours and everything gets so much better. 'Hey, you're not supposed to be helping.'

He pulls you onto him more fully and it feels so good you squeeze your eyes together. 'Was that a rule?'

Kihyun repeats the motion, angling you so every thrust brings delicious friction to your clit. With a shuddering breath you clutch at his headboard for balance. 'I'll allow it,' you moan, holding the back of his neck as you match his motion with your own.

His thumbs dig into your sensitive skin hard enough to leave marks in the morning, his fingers grasping the flesh of your ass. You’re beyond caring about anything but this moment. His face is buried in your hair, his raspy, animalistic groans coming from him make you squeeze around him.

'Fuck,' he groans, doubling his pace and making you feel like you're about to explode from the heat and slide of him inside you.

'Come with me,' is all you can get out amongst the stream of gasps and sighs you can't contain.

He nods, his teeth playing with the tendons in your neck just sharp enough to send shockwaves of sharp pleasure to your already sensitive core. One of his hands leaves your waist and you feel his thumb swirl circles around your clit. Your orgasm bursts forth like a river freed from a dam and you cling to him and he rides out your release as well as his own.

When your breathing returns to normal you lift your arms, thick with pleasure and the best kind of exhaustion, and remove the blindfold. He looks as relaxed as you feel and he brushes your hair behind your ears. 

'And the verdict is?'

‘I can’t believe we could have been doing that for the past few years, fuck,' you laugh.

He strokes his thumb across your lip. ‘I hope we can do that uhhh, quite often in the future. After you tell me all about your life right now.’

‘Deal,’ you say, pulling his face back to yours to kiss him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging @yixingminseokjongdae​ I hope you’re well love!! <3

[writing-the-end]

WS Chapter 51- Growing Pains

Previous Chapter

Masterpost

yeah....getting close to the end, all the pieces are starting to come together. Next WS will be another part of Feral Friendship, but afterwards its one last stretch to chapter 60! 

Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block

“Is it supposed to be all warm like this?” Red skips forward, offering up the massive shell to Avon. “Is this normal for a dragon egg?” He gasps. “Does it have a fever? It rained last night, did we leave it out?” 

Avon brushes her fingers over the smooth black egg, smiling and shaking her head. “I don’t feel anything different. Dragons are pretty hardy creatures, I’m sure it’s not sick.” 

“How could it even get sick through the shell? I don’t think that’s how that works.” Ecto adds, peering closer. Smattered across the black shell, dark purple flecks dot the surface like stars in the night sky. Ecto leaps back, surprised by a sudden pulse of the purple flecks, blinking bright purple for half a second. When she looks up, none of the others seem to have noticed. Maybe it was just her imagination. 

They’re wandering again, not just running. Looking for a place to make their stand, put their arms into the fight and call on help of their friends and other people who call this world home. People who want to protect their biomes, their habitats. People who value the unique world they live in. From there, they can enter the hermit world and gather the allies they’ve amassed there, and all their wondrous knowledge of redstone and building. 

They need more than just three feral idiots. They need more than any builder, or redstone engineer, or potion master, or adventurer, or monster could ever offer on their own. They need them all, and then some. This isn’t just about revenge for the wanderers’ lost homes, it’s defending everyone’s home. 

Red holds the egg close to her body, stepping carefully with such a precious load in her hands. While they walk, Red regales the unborn dragon with stories from her own youth. Stories of pirates and mermaids, adventure and romance. Sometimes, she swears she can feel the dragonling react. A twitch of the egg, a heartbeat of light against the shell. Red remembers loving stories as a baby, so she hopes the baby dragon will like her stories as well. 

“If only you had met Mama Gummi, Jessie.” Red whispers. “She told stories better than me. Made up her own, and she was so calm and gentle it would just rock you asleep with the current. I...I never got to meet your mommy. Avon loved her, though. She sounds like a really cool dragon, and an awesome mom. I don’t know how she took care of an egg for a thousand years all on her own.” Red laughs, looking forward at Ecto and Avon in front of him. 

He leans in, rubbing the cool shell, feeling warmth move across the night sky at his fingers. “But you do have us. We aren’t exactly a normal family, but that’s what makes us so fun and unique. It’s how we work together so well. You’ll have me, and all my stories and great cooking. I can teach you to swim, and how to build. You’ll have Ecto, and all her clever ideas and fun jokes. She’ll teach you how to survive anything, whether it’s a harsh environment or an enemy base. And you’ll have Avon, another dragon. She can teach you to fly and...uh, whatever else dragons do.” 

Ecto stretches her arms out, stopping the other wanderers in their tracks. Framed by the oak tree forest, they can see grassland stretch beyond them, The plains dry the wind from the ocean to their left, turning the opposite biome into a dry desert. “This is the place. This is where we make our stand.” 

“This is where we fight.” Avon whispers. Wind catches through the leaves, blustering their hair and clothes. Ecto and Avon look like fighters, standing at attention. Ecto’s scarves and Avon’s cloak billow in the breeze, unfurling like flags. 

Red isn’t ready to fight. Sure, he’s taken on phantoms and pillagers, but neither of those can be talked down. Phantoms prey without thought, and pillagers' minds have been corrupted by the same illness that turns their skin pale and grey. But these hellspawns… Red’s seen them think, seen them argue and laugh. Just like his friends. “Do you...do you think there’s any way we could show the hellspawns that balance is good? That difference is good?” 

Ecto slips down the hill, feet never faltering as the dirt cascades beneath. Avon holds out her hand, taking the egg and fluttering to the ground below. Red picks her way down, squeaking as a rock comes free and she goes tumbling to the bottom. Avon and Ecto both give her grim looks. “I don’t think they can be talked to, Red. They only see violence, attacking people as the only means of solution.” 

“You saw what they did to our homes, to their own homes even. Don’t you want them to pay for all that destruction?” Ecto knows exactly how to get him riled up. To think of Mama Gummi, and the other guardians. The dying reef. Fire flares in Red’s gut, before his heart and mind extinguishes the anger. 

“If only we could talk to them. Show them what kindness can do.” Red has no clue how they’d do that, but he wishes they could try all the same. He finds his hands rubbing along the cool gilded skin of the statue Scar gave him, relieving stress along Fred’s adorable nose and glittery eyes. 

The wanderers set up camp at the juncture of the four biomes, camp tucked into the trees. Ecto disappears into the sand, the only way that the others know where she’s gone is by the pillars that begin to appear. Red leaps into the ocean, refreshed by the rocking waves and reinvigorated by the coral reef beneath. He starts chasing after fish, grabbing them with daggered claws and teeth. And Avon stays with the egg, drawing up a map of the terrain around them. 

By evening, a basic plan has been built. Avon strategizes, but Ecto offers ideas and solutions when Avon’s mind can’t think of any other way. And Red offers up support, defensive lines and traps. Helping however he can. They plot through dinner, until the fire is the only light across the dirt and sand around them. Illuminating three faces, and one egg. 

Red crawls over to the large shell, the egg soaking in all light that hits the black color and not letting it free. Avon watches over one wing, but she trusts Red with Jeane’s child. Ecto and Avon go back to planning. 

“I have a really good story tonight.” Red whispers, and begins to spin her tale. A story she hardly remembers, but with each word that crosses her lips the memory begins to fade back from the edge of existence. It was a story she knew before any other story. A story she knew before Mama Gummi. Told by people she can’t remember, faces obscured by time and the young age which she lost them. 

As Red tells the story, weaving his own pieces, it catches the attention of Ecto and Avon. Both tired and dealing with matching headaches, they’re drawn to the easy, gentle voice of their friend. Listening to the story, watching Red’s face grow as he remembers more. He can remember their voices- one calm and deep like the bottom of the ocean, the other bouncy and full of life like a vibrant coral reef- but he can’t remember the faces that accompany them. Just ghosts whispering the story across his mind. 

The story ends, and Red looks up to find both Ecto and Avon have fallen asleep. Flopped on top of one another, Ecto’s hood fallen back and almost suffocating Avon beneath her. The call of the cuddle puddle is too loud to ignore, and Red swoops in between both, holding the egg close like a toy. Protecting it with his arms as his fin stretches across Ecto like a blanket.

It wasn’t a cold night, but the wanderers remained together. So long wandering, searching for somewhere to make their stand, it was a relief to lay back and not think of walking more in the morning. 

But the morning is not peaceful. Red wakes with a start, grasping the tough egg shell as it rocks in his hands. He feels like he can hear his own heartbeat in his ears, but his chest isn’t pulsating as quickly as the noise is. No, the beating sound matches the way the egg illuminates and darkens, purple spots glowing and fading to the thrum. Red scrabbles to his feet, setting the egg down. Horror crosses his face as he sees a small crack in the shell. It’s so thin, but to Red it might as well be a ravine. Panic strikes through Red, tears already welling in his eyes as he realizes what’s happened. 

He broke the egg. An egg that has been protected for a thousand years, survived being kidnapped and thrown into lava, and he cracks it in his sleep. Red’s breath quickens, each intake of air quickly dispelled back out as the horror, the guilt sets in. He killed the egg. Jeane’s only child, the last dragon. He brought extinction in his ignorance. All while he was asleep. 

Red needs Avon. She scrambles over Ecto, who just tips to the side and continues to snore, grabbing Avon by the shoulders and shaking him. “Avon, Avon wake up! The egg has an ouchie! We have a problem!” 

Avon’s kick narrowly misses hitting Red, but pulling her wings up over her head as she buries deeper into sleep does manage to get Red off her. “I’m going to give you an ouchie if you keep yelling.” 

Red feels tears fall from her cheeks, and she dares to anger the dragon again. Avon has to wake up. “Avon please wake up I think the egg is dead.” 

That does the trick. The two knock heads as Avon sits straight up, sending both reeling back from the collision. Avon recovers almost immediately, rolling to her feet. Hunter’s eyes scan the clearing, before she slides across to the egg. Holding it close. Behind Red, Ecto mumbles out of sleep, sitting up and rubbing her eyes free of the dreams that trapped her. They both watch as Avon runs a finger along the thin crack. 

The crack grows, and the egg shakes. A whimper escapes Red, but Avon doesn’t seem worried. In fact, she picks the egg up, moving it closer to Ecto and Red. “It’s not cracked. It’s hatching.” 

That wakes Ecto up. It’s not every day she gets to witness a thousand year old dragon egg hatch. The crack fractures, spindling outward like a spider’s web across the pulsating shell. It rocks against the ground, Avon wrapping her wings to lift it back to center. The other two peer over her shoulder, gazing between the miracle of life before them, and the strangely domestic mood that is written across Avon’s face. She may be the wanderer that keeps the other two from getting into deep trouble, but Red knows she’s a horrible cook and even worse babysitter. This is about as gentle he’s ever seen her. 

A small flake of the thick, hard shell falls away, and out peeks a tiny black nose. It disappears back into the confines of the egg, leaving the wanderers with their breaths held. The egg rolls back, then rocks forward. The shell breaks open as the newborn dragon smashes a hole with it’s stubby horns, tumbling over it’s wet, grey wings and landing belly to the morning sun. 

Red squeals, eyes filled with love at the sight. A baby dragon, it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. Stubby black legs and sharp grey claws wave in the air, gelatinous wings flapping uselessly against the ground. Ears way too large for the tiny, scaly face flop and slap against the baby dragon’s bright purple eyes as it shakes dirt free of it’s crown. Avon scoops the dragonet up, cradling the newborn in her wings as it chirps and struggles to it’s feet. 

“Welcome to the world, little one.” Ecto whispers, watching the dragon nestle into Avon’s arms. It’s legs can’t quite hold its weight, and it’s wings are more like sails than methods of flight. The only thing rigid about the newborn dragon is it’s spines, but even those are tiny purple nubbins across the midnight black scales. All the way down to it’s tail just peeking out from under Avon’s arm. 

The dragonet gains some confidence, peering out of Avon’s motherly cradle to see the others in its presence. The baby tilts its head, ears flopping to the side as piercing purple eyes stare at the world around it. Taking in the new sights. And it begins to chirp and squeak, tiny claws scrabbling against Avon’s clothes. The baby flops to the ground behind Avon, crawling towards Ecto and Red. Never ceasing it’s chatter the whole way. “You’re a talkative one, aren’t you?” 

“She needs a name.” Avon tries to pick up the dragonet, but the little girl already has a taste for adventure. Not even able to walk, no more than a few minutes old, and she wants to see the world. Another wanderer. 

“Jessie.” Red whispers, reaching out. He’s careful as he caresses the soft scales at the baby’s chin, helping the newborn lift her head to gaze beyond the ground. It’s not exactly tiny, but after seeing how big her mother was, this is adorable. She’s about the size of a cat, wings and ears already disproportionately larger than the rest of her. 

“Jessie?” Avon questions, rolling the name on her tongue. Ecto helps the dragonet into her arms, cradling her like a prized cactus. Watching white teeth glimmer as the baby coos and nuzzles into the scratchy fabric of Ecto’s clothes. 

“Yeah...I’ve been calling it that for a few days. I felt like the egg deserved a name, even if we didn’t know when it would hatch or what gender it’d be. So I thought of a neutral name. Jessie.” Red shrugs, watching the dragonet crawl into Ecto’s hood, making herself comfortable. A tiny puff of smoke rises from little nostrils as the newborn cuddles. She already has all three wanderers wrapped around her claw, eyes almost tearing up at something so cute. A baby dragon, seeing the world for the first time. Experiencing life for the first time. “And… it starts with a J, like Jeane did. To… to remember her mother.” 

Avon pets the dragonet in Ecto’s hood, the purple eyes starting to droop asleep. Red wonders how exhausting it must be to hatch out of a shell. But Avon smiles, watching as Ecto reaches around and pets between the baby’s ears. “Hello Jessie.”

[severusdefender]

More Werewolf!Lily AU Scribbles this time w/ more action

I don’t normally write this fast, it’s weird. I tried to keep it real with the UK-slang/words but I’m not sure how accurate I was. Also action scenes are my weakness but I think I’m getting better at pacing. Here ya’ll’s go, enjoy. <333

Werewolf Action Scene: Severus is going to die.

Oh, and Remus bloody Lupin was a fucking werewolf, but that’s beside the point. Severus’d taken Black’s bait like the bloody moron that brutish buffoon thought he was, hook, line, and sinker; and here he is, staring into the jaws of death of a pissed werewolf.

The boy turns, the teen-turned-beast growls with a jerky forward lunge, and Severus trips backwards flat onto his arse, and then in a single bound the Slytherin student was between the front paws of a monster and somewhere in the milliseconds between those two things his wand had slipped from his fingers.

“FUCK!”

Snarling, open jaws, full of sharp teeth and angry spittle-

“Bombarda!”

BANG-BANG-POP!

A ringing explosion and the beast’s jaws snap shut a split second before crashing into the floor next to Severus’ head, howling with pain. Severus’ ears are ringing and his body feels sluggish and shaky, but he manages to roll to look at the source voice coming from the tunnel exit.

Lily.

“Come on, ugly!” Severus feels the foreign sense of relief turn to horror as his timely savior screams with almost suicidal confidence at his attacker and darts over from the side of the tunnel exit, daring the beast to come after her instead her stupid, stupid friend, “over here! Stupefy!”

FLASH!

Red light of a stunning spell splatters uselessly against the wire-haired hide, as the monster’s howl of pain quickly morphed into a snarl of rage as it abandons the prone Severus to give chase.

Another spell scatters, before Lily tries to dodge far too late, back falling against the reinforced shack wall with nowhere to go.

Then Lily’s snapped up, massive jaws closing over the entire juncture of her shoulder and her neck with a rustling snap. The Shrieking Shack’s dimly lit, but Severus smells the iron before he hears her scream as the creature lifts his friend off her feet, with a sharp jerk to one side, not unlike how dogs would start to shake small animals they catch.

She’s going to die-!

Severus can’t breath and Lily was going to die as his hands scramble for his fucking wand, but then her free arm slaps upward, toward the werewolf’s face.

A pained shriek, Lily’s falling to the ground as Severus raises his wand-

“Incarcerous!”

Conjured ropes appear to bind legs and body as it writhes, bays and snarls as Severus rushes past, struggling to haul his friend up to her feet before shakily half-dragging her past the wild-eyed creature of death and teeth snapping at his conjured ropes; the seconds it takes to get back to the tunnel that would lead out back to the Whomping Willow feel like an eternity.

Not three steps down the tunnel before Lily’s weight is violently ripped away from Severus, she screams as the werewolf does shake her like a ragdoll this time, and then suddenly she’s airborne and bouncing off a wall and onto the floor with an echoing thud.

On the opposite side of the shack, away from Severus and the Whomping Willow exit.

Fuck.

Sick amber orbs regard him aggressively, he could either run or go for Lily again but-

“BUARRR!”

A fucking deer bursts through the door, moonlight bright and illuminating the shack behind it, full body tackling the werewolf with a fierce, mooing bellow. The werewolf barks and snorts, snapping at the deft animal, distracted once again.

The stag fends the monster off, bone-like rack of pointed tines drawing occasional blood and more ear-rattling bellows-

But Severus doesn’t bother wasting time wondering what they hell was going, he grabs his friend and hauls her onto his back entirely, and is halfway up the tunnel before even realizing that he was crying.

He nearly trips again, and dearly hates his awful ill-fitting shoes as Lily groans out wet sort of hiccough.

“Lily!” He half-whispers, half-sobs, they’re at the exit now, his shoulder and back are wet but he can see the moonlight outside, “stay awake, okay?! Just, stay awake, please.”

“S’ a first,” a gurgling sort of laugh and her words slurring together, “hahh, y’ har’ly ev’ say puh-leassssee Sefff…”

What the fuck are you doing here? The boy forgets to scream as he makes the mistake of looking over at the redhead he’s half-carrying on his shoulder, catching sight of the ragged tears in her flesh, her throat is distressingly open and awfully bright even in the poor lighting.

They’re outside now and then it’s a mad dash to the Hospital Wing, Severus is muttering furiously, but about he can’t actually say for sure. Every step feels like a bloody mile, and the ugly mantra of, ‘I should’ve just gone to bed, I should’ve just gone bed,’ repeats itself stupid in his head right next to, ‘they tried to kill us, they tried to kill us.’

Passing another shut, unused classroom, “Lily, talk to me!”

It’s dumb, the fifteen-year-old boy thinks, that he needs to hear his friend let him know she’s still alive while she was fucking dying, after being mangled by a werewolf-!

Shite.

“’L’ft ‘r kn'ffffe,” are the next words, his friend’s good arm patting strangely at his chest, Severus is only two hallways away now, he thinks, “’s’rry.”

“What!?” Severus can’t help but sob stupidly, hating every dumb hiccupping breath of his own that keeps escaping him.

Lily doesn’t respond again.

The last long hallway is a blur, and Severus fights the mounting hysterical thought that he’s carting a corpse instead of his dying friend until the entrance of the Hospital Wing finally greets him. Then his next memory is the image of an awake Madame Pomfrey, now a blur of activity as the mediwitch finally levitates his best friend onto a bed.

Lily lets out a whimper and Severus is so awash with relief that he steps back, and-

The infirmary floor puts him out like a light.

OOOOO

NOTES: Yes, Lily hadn’t stabbed Moony in the face to drop her, the shaking would’ve broken her neck and she would’ve died outright. At first I wanted her to have held onto the knife but I figured that would be a little unrealistic considering everything, so the knife is somewhere on the Shrieking Shack floor along with Lily’s wand. Also Severus hasn’t quite digested the whole concept of how Lily’s gonna be a werewolf too yet, because he had other concerns at the time.

Thoughts?

What else can I except post this on ao3? Holy shit that was intense

[dyingswanpavlova]

“ lovely surprise “ // [ fluff ] cheryl blossom x fem!reader

summary: Cheryl is giving reader the sweetest gift for Easter Holiday.

word count: 1635

a/n: Took me almost a year, but I fell in love with her, I guess.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Long story short: I need your help.”

You let out a long sigh, followed by eye rolling and ironic laughter. Wonderful.

“Come on, you can’t mean this.”

You tried your best to hide it but you knew you were actually pretty flattered by her offer and you knew that you knew it was. But you couldn’t not let her get her wish like that. She was not the princess. Actually, she was ... But she shouldn’t get her way that easily.

“Please”, she begged, trying her best as well, grabbing you by your sleeve.

You thought about it for a few more seconds and bit your lip to make it look more dramatic. Cheryl knew that you would agree eventually, but there was a little tension in her shiny eyes.

You rolled your eyes again. “Alright.”

A high shriek ripped your ears out their comfort and immediately let you regret your decision somehow. Still you smiled when she hugged you energetically.

“I’ll just get my pencils and all the stuff - where should we do it? Like home? At yours? You can’t get undressed here and-”

“Wait, what? Get undressed? Cheryl, that’s not what we were talking about”, you protested, almost choking on your vanilla milkshake.

Cheryl, sweet and well-played innocent as always, smiled at you.

“Not like that, silly. We’re not in the Titanic movie and I for sure am not DiCaprio - but I can’t draw your pretty contours, your magnificent mane, your soul and then let you wear a damn pair of sweat pants.”

Good point, you thought, but you didn’t answer anything. Your eyes followed her all the way out of Pop’s, as she rushed through the street like it was Christmas eve and she just realized that she’d forgot the most important present.

Months ago you would’ve never thought that you ever might get there. Sitting at Pop’s, sipping at the same vanilla flavored milkshake that Cheryl did, just from another straw. Actually, she liked the strawberry one more. But she’d never admit it - she knew you loved vanilla. You smiled and suddenly felt heat in your cheeks. She was so perfect and there was no way that you really deserved that.

  Hours later you found yourself sitting in your living room. Your parents went for Easter Holiday, intelligent as you thought, but you couldn’t leave. It was almost no time left til finals (well, actually there were some months, but that was not enough for a nerd who’d write award winning mathematics tests). So you stayed home to study and spend time with the cutest girl in town.

“I should wear what?” You lifted your view, just to find her staring at you with something in her eyes that you had never seen before. It was like...You were her muse. You knew Cheryl was good, no, great at drawing, but since you’d given her the official YES for drawing you...it was like nothing could stop her. Her eyes were sparkling like a star filled night in July.

“Panties, a white T-Shirt and a smile”, she responded chillingly calm and handed you over an oversized white T-Shirt that looked so sterile as if no one had ever touched it before. The white was so white that it almost hurt your eyes.

“But...”

“Listen, the shirt is so long, it doesn’t show anything. And also I’d never draw anything if I knew it’d make you uncomfortable, okay?”

You nodded at her, still suspicious, but you didn’t say anything.

“Honey. This is for you and only for you. And well, for me maybe. Do you trust me?”

As she spoke, she placed her hands on your cheeks. The skin of her hands was so soft that it sent shivers down your back. When you opened your eyes again, you saw her ones staring deep in your soul, as you thought. Immediately you felt weak in your knees.

“Yes”, your lips formed silently. You felt her thumb softly caressing first your cheek, than your lower lip. She lowered her view down on your lips, then looked back at your eyes.

“You won’t regret it. I promise”, she whispered.

“Okay. Okay.”

Before you had the time to say anything more, she reached out for the shirt again, pressing it against your chest.

“Please”, she said, trying to sound annoyed. She knew she couldn’t, when you were around, which left you even happier.

Without a word you took the shirt and threw it on the couch which should be your home for the next few hours. You unbuttoned your shirt quickly, threw it next to the shirt. When you reached out for it, Cheryl coughed.

“What now?”, you hissed.

“The bra, too”, she commanded, slowly sitting down on her chair with a giant drawing pad in front of her.

You gave her a diabolic smile. „Fine.“

As soon as your fingers reached the button, the bra sailed down to the floor, where it landed next to your feet. You reached for the whity shirt, when you noticed blandly staring. You looked up to find Cheryl slightly distracted. With your best poker face, trying not to become too red in the face, you put the shirt on, then let yourself fall onto the sofa.

„How should I sit?“

„A bit more left…yes, like that. I like your hair on one side, on the left side. Yes, you look like a tiger! I like that“, she said, talking more to herself than to you.

Cheryl had put the heating on the highest rate since you sat there half naked, for hours, with nothing to do but looking back at her while she did her best to let your figure become whole on a white piece of paper.

When she started, you could tell something was changing about her. Nothing about her apperance that was specific – the fire-red hair was tied up into a messy bun (which no one would see her with, usually), but her face was so concentrated, that it gave you goosebumps.

„I feel a bit like young Rose“, you said with a dying voice.

Your girlfriend smiled mildly. „You’re a hundred thousand times prettier than her, but yeah, I get your point.“ Her voice was mostly just a mumbling, but her hands were doing real work. You had never seen her so spiced up in her element. It was chilling to see Cheryl fly up high in one of her many passions.

After some time, you lowered your view. „I feel terrible now“, you admitted.

„Don’t worry, I won’t make you look terrible“, she murmured. You smiled, but your smile was hiding something. Suddenly she stopped working, then looked at you.

„What is it?“, she asked with a serious voice.

„I feel bad since your present is so…this. Compared to that…“

Cheryl found her smile again and put it back on.

„To be here with you for Easter, that’s the greatest gift I could ever get. To have you in my arms, watching stupid horror movies and hearing your breathing right next to me while falling asleep…“

She didn’t say it, but you saw how her lips slowly formed a word.

Paradise.

  It took many hours. Many, many hours. Many visits to the bathroom, some pill against headaches and so much classical music. But it was worth it, eventually.

„It’s done“, Cheryl said suddenly, more to herself.

You jumped up immediately. „Let me see it.“ Your eyes were burning.

„Okay…okay. I’m not sure if…I mean it isn’t…Okay, get over here.“

Her fingers were dirty from the pencils, her eyes seemed tired and her messy bun was even messier by then, but she looked as happy as never before, you thought.

She made sure your eyes were closed, before you reached the front of it. Then she let go of your face and told you to open your eyes.

What you saw was just spectacular.

You saw a girl. She had a massive amount of hair, you saw pale hands with bony fingers, you saw fullfilled lips and two terribly annoying dimples, you saw heartbreak and compassion, you saw a vulnerable girl that got nervous whenever she undressed infront of her girlfriend, you saw tensely laughter, you saw…you.

„Oh my god, Cheryl.“

„Don’t tell me…“

Before another word fell out of her mouth, you grabbed her by her hands, pulled her as close as possible and then you kissed her. You felt her heat, her sweaty hands in your neck, her cold nose, her nervous breathing, the chills she got when she felt your lips on hers. Her body was relaxing with the seconds and she placed her hands on your waist slowly before pulling her had back.

„So you like it?“

You smiled at her as if she’d just asked a question which answer was so, so clear.

„I’ve never seen something comparable beautiful, Cheryl. It’s the most wonderful thing someone’s ever done for me. I think it’s…it’s perfect.“

You felt her arm tightening around your waist, pulling closer, so close that nothing could get inbetween you.

„So, Cheryl, about your present…“

„If it’s the cherry formed wristwatch in white gold from Perry’s I’m freaking. Screaming.“

„How would you…“

„Hell-o. I’m Cheryl Blossom. Do you really think anything in this town gets to happen without my knowing?“

You grabbed her hands and stared at her, parts amused and other parts happy as ever.

„So, did you predict this as well?“, you whispered in her ear, kissing the edge of it, slowly and softly. You felt her breath was going faster and that was your sign.

„Bed time, cherry baby. I’ve got another surprise for you“, you promised as the two of you ran up the stairs and wouldn’t get back down til Easter was over.

And every second of it was worth it.

[praetoriusrpg-blog]

Welcome to the Praetorius, Kat! Your application for Praetor Elina Rae has been accepted with a Katie McGrath FC. You have 48 hours to create a roleplay account (cannot be a sideblog) and remember to follow the tags on the checklist and your fellow Praetors on the masterlist.

The application can be found under the cut.

O O C - I N F O

Name: Kat

Age: 23

Timezone: Est

Activity Level: Probably around a 6 or 7 most days.

Extra: N/A

C H A R A C T E R - I N F O

T H E - B A S I C S

Name: Elina Rae

Alias: Myst

Species: Voss/Human

Gender: Female

Age: 23

Occupation: Healer

Class: Gray Jedi Mystic

Faceclaim:

Katie McGrath

C H A R A C T E R - D E T A I L S

Homeworld:

Voss

Appearance:

Elina is 5’6 and stands to her full height at all times. She feels that she is rather short and so she refuses to slouch and make herself appear even smaller. She has wild dark hair that she normally wears in curls flowing down her back or in a tight long braid. Her skin is light blue with a purple tint to it. Her skin is covered in a very light purple pattern of swirls that almost form leaves if you look at them closely enough. She used to laugh and smile often but she that is rare now. She looks like she’s made of stone almost all the time. She does not make any expressions regardless of how she’s feeling unless she’s making a show of dominance.

Katya is a spitting image of her mother and shares the same characteristics as her except that her hair is silver like her father’s.

Personality:

+ Graceful, Wise, Loyal

Elina is known to walk with a certain kind of grace that almost looks as if she is floating rather than touching the ground. She is wise as is the way of her mother’s people and has been trained in both the ways of the Jedi and of the Voss Mystics. She uses her knowledge for her own protection and advantage but also for the protection of her family which now only comprises of her sister.  She would do anything to protect the last remaining member of her family including joining the Praetorius.

- Deceitful, Ruthless, Cunning

While Elina is as sweet as can be to those she loves and cares for she certainly has a dark side. She has been known to cut down her enemies without a second thought and she will use anyone who stands in her way without regard for their feelings. She enjoys a good mind game and doesn’t apologize for it. It is these traits that make her afraid to walk so close to the dark side knowing that she could so easily fall to their side.

C H A R A C T E R - B A C K G R O U N D

History:

Elina was born to a gray jedi father and voss mystic mother. She spent her childhood in a remote place on the planet Voss. It was both a beautiful and dangerous place to live. Her mother and father raised her in the ways of the force. Her father teaching her all of the jedi ways while also showing her the ways of the sith. He told her over and over again that she would be a great warrior and to never allow herself to walk too close to either side of the force. She held to his teachings even as a small child she felt a strong connection to the force.

As she grew and learned the ways of the jedi and sith from her father she also learned the ways of the Voss Mystics from her mother. Her mother taught her the ways of healing a skill which she was renowned for. Elina became just as good as her mother and she spent many days going with her mother to heal those who were hurt. Always practicing her skills to become better. She was young when she had her first vision. A vision of her mother holding a baby girl. She told her parents about her vision and soon enough they found that her mother was expecting.

Elina cannot control when she will get a vision and that somewhat annoys her. She feels that she can control every other power and ability she has, and control is something she likes to have. She had several visions during her childhood. Each one accurate and so she has become accustomed to relying on them. Though she does not always share her visions.

Around the time that she was set to turn 18 she had a vision of her father dying. She couldn’t stand the thought of it and did her best to protect him as much as she could. She carried her purple lightsaber with her at all times and tried to be with him constantly without telling him the horrible news. On the eve of her birthday he sat her down and told her the story of his life. How he had joined the Praetorius believing that they were the right way but how he had changed his mind over the years of raising her and her baby sister. She couldn’t believe what he told her but deep down she knew it was all true. He told her that she had to run and while they were on their way to a ship that would take her far away they were attacked by several members of the Praetorius.

Elina was horrified upon seeing the Praetorius and she tried to escape them as best she could. She found that she was unwilling to fight them though as she was with child and quite far along. She knew that her little girl would be born soon and she was reluctant to risk the life of her precious child. Still it was not in her to just allow them to take her away against her will.  Elina watched her father die exactly as he had in her vision and her world shattered. She did her best to escape but they quickly took the fight out of her upon mentioning her baby sister. They told her that her mother was already dead and that her baby sister would only be allowed life if she went with them peacefully. She had no way of knowing if anything they said was true but she had to do what she could for her younger sister.

She agreed to go and has been living with and being trained by the Praetorius ever since. They allowed her to keep her child with her and she named her Katya after her younger sister. As her daughter grew Elina went through many teachings with her Master and until there was only the final trial to go through.

Her Master suggested that Katya would be her final trial and the young girl saw red. She was not one to engage in violence often but she couldn’t help herself. She had always been strong in the force and her father had taught her well. She used the force to crush his skull making his death as painful as possible. Her first thought after killing him was that she had made a mistake but she did not find trouble with the High Praetors and instead she was made a full Praetor having passed all of her trials. Pleased with the results of her actions she has yet to be assigned a new master. Instead receiving missions and guidance from Caius.

She holds tightly to her beliefs but the constant draw of the dark side weighs heavily on her. She feels the need to flee and become a more grounded part of the group in equal measure. She feels that the Praetorius are not the people she wishes her daughter to become but as the days go on she begins to feel as if the group is more and more like her home. She knows that soon things will have to be decided upon and she dreads the day when she must make a true decision.  

Joining the Praetorius:

Elina has joined the Praetorius to protect the life of her younger sister. She also cannot risk trying to escape with her daughter being so young.

[luccie-eclair]

Keeping Score (Renora Week: Dress Up)

“Stop moving.”

Ren sighed. If his eyes were open, they would have been rolling. A soft sponge coated in green foundation patted away at his once olive complexion. This had been going on for a good few minutes. He felt the skilled hands travel under his jaw, so he took it as his cue to open his, now green eyes. His best friend, partner, and girlfriend sat on his lap with her brows scrunched in intense focus.

Her face was patted to a light blue and she temporarily dyed her hair black with a white streak. A stitched scar ran at the bottom of her left eye and she wore black lipstick on her top lip with black contacts. Her costume consisted of a form-fitting, short navy blue lab coat that flared out under a black belt and reached her thighs, black leggings, and matching combat boots and gloves that sat next to her.

Nora had worked incredibly hard in between her classes and the occasional mission to create her costume. To create all of their costumes, actually. Ever since Jaune had gotten them all hooked on Kim Possible, they’d taken to binging it on team bonding nights rather than actually going out. Thus, their team costume for the Hallows Eve party materialized itself in a few weeks time. Pyrrha and Jaune’s costumes were relatively easy and the champion had makeup for herself and Jaune’s freckles. However, Nora never half assed anything and simply made her and Ren’s costumes from scratch. (She really should consider making a career out it. She certainly had the talent.) But that brings us to a female Drakken, or “Drakkene” as Nora called herself, meticulously covering “Hego” in green foundation and contour.

“Drop your jaw,” she commanded lightly. Ren hesitantly opened his mouth. He knew what was coming and they bickered over whether it was truly necessary to wear lipstick. Then his teammates sided against him. Then he lost… Point one for Nora. The cold, black solid brushed against his top lip and glided across, then again to fill in any light gaps. “Do not rub your lips together or so help me, Ren,” she warned. “But, you’re done!” She happily jumped off of his lap to put her gloves on and he did the same. He began to miss the pressure of her weight upon his lap.

Ren stood from his and Nora’s bed to inspect her handiwork. Despite stating that he didn’t mind temporarily dying his pink streak, Nora elected it to stay. It made his costume seem more suited for him, she’d said. Speaking of, the costume itself wasn’t skin tight which was a blessing. It took her hours to sew it in a way that he wasn’t restricted and his “goods” wouldn’t be seen. His boots and gloves were two different hues, black and green. She’d completed his look by styling his hair into gentle waves that morning. His girlfriend always did an amazing job on their costumes, but this one had to be his personal favorite despite the lipstick that he’d be more than happy to remove. 

“Ren,” Nora called from the hallway. “Quit checking yourself out so we can take pictures and party!”

~*~

Pictures actually took longer than they thought, especially when RWBY and SSSN and CVFY and Penny and Oscar all decided that they wanted pictures as well. It was quite the spectacle seeing eighteen hunters attempting to squeeze into a front facing scroll before giving up and asking for outside help. 

Eventually, after nearly an hour, the group had arrived when the event was in full swing. The ballroom was decked in dark colors with spider webs, blood, and Grimm corpses. Everyone dressed in either actual scary costumes or cosplaying as pop culture figures. RWBY toed the line and accomplished both at the same time. 

Ren had given his first dance to Nora, of course, before she quickly jumped off to dance with everyone else. He’d seen her give a dance to Jaune, Sun, and Neptune at some point, but mostly stuck to Pyrrha, Penny, and RWBY. Later, Sky Lark got brave enough to ask her to dance before he was shot down almost painfully. The dark haired man himself had danced with Pyrrha and most of RWBY (the leader herself felt too shy to even ask before he asked her onto the dance floor). However, he mostly stuck to the sidelines watching his girlfriend smile and dance with everyone. 

It was hypnotizing, he thought. The way she moved her hips and swung her hair every which way. Her dancing was both erratic and controlled in a way he couldn’t describe. Nora knew how to dance and how to move to any beat -the two of them often learned routines from their favorite Mpop groups together. But when she lacked any set guidelines and she was amongst trusted peers, she liked to hang back and go with the flow of whatever felt right. 

“How are you holding up,” the voice of his leader, Jaune took his attention away from his girlfriend who had gotten rather close to a zombified Goldilocks. The young man himself looked a little worse for wear. His hair even more disheveled than normal with a brown top lip marked on his jaw.

“I’m doing well. You seem like you could use a break, though,” Ren replied a smirk gracing his lips.

“Pyrrha has way too much energy. This is the first break I’ve gotten all night.”

“You should use this break to wipe off her lipstick.”

Panic set on Jaune’s face as he excused himself to the bathroom. Ren chuckled and turned back to Nora who now shuffled with Oscar, the latter seeming a tad awkward though still enjoying himself. She laughed and looked in his direction. Black contacts met green ones as she winked at him and turned back to their circle of friends. She said something before separating herself from the clump and skipping her way to Ren.

“Having a real group of friends is actually a little tiring,” she said as she got closer. “I almost wish it were just us again, but then who would I hang out with when you’re doing your meditating thing?”

Ren huffed out a small laugh and turned to get her a cup of punch, but took a small sip to make sure there was no alcohol. He couldn’t have her getting drunk. Once failing to taste anything out of ordinary, he handed her the cup. “I guess you’d have to sit and get bored waiting for me to finish.”

She scoffed. “I’d rather sit in class. At least there’s background noise.” She took a sip of the bright red drink, her tongue lightly poking out to nab a lost drop on her blue, bottom lip. The innocent move shouldn’t have affected him as much at it did, but there he was staring at her plump, black and blue lips. They quirked into a small smirk. “Ren, you’re not good at hiding your stares.”

He looked into her eyes. They dazzled despite her colored contacts. “Well, it took you years to figure out I was even staring in the first place, so I believe I am doing something right,” he gave her a coy smile as though he’d one-upped her in a game. Ren: 1, Nora: 1.

“Oh, but everyone else seemed to notice, so you clearly didn’t do as well as you think.” She gained the upper hand.

“And whom are you referring to?" 

Nora gave him an incredulous look and pulled out her scroll. Ren knew that he definitely lost this one. She scrolled through her gallery and began to show him various pictures of him staring at her when she was turned away. "This one was taken by Jaune.” She flicked her finger. “Pyrrha.” A flick. “Yang.” Flick. “Blake.” Flick. “Ruby.” Flick. “Sun.” Flick. “Coco.” Another one. “Os-” He pressed his lips to hers in an effort to gain the leas once more. He was still down by a point.

The female Drakken brought her gloved hands to the back of his neck and pulled at his waves until their lips parted. Bits of blue foundation stuck to his green bottom lip as green foundation stuck to her blue lip. She chuckled and leaned onto her tip toes to reach his ears. “What do you say we leave and turn our makeup teal,” she seductively whispered into his lobes before playfully nipping at them.

After that pick up line, Ren honestly couldn’t take her seriously. His chest rumbled as he laughed and clutched her closer to him. His head lazily fell into the crook of her neck as his laughter got a tad softer since it was muffled. “That was very bad, Nora,” he said once he got a little more control over himself. She definitely lost a point for that. They finally tied.

The blue woman whined and tried to push him away, but his kept a firm hold on her. “I was trying to be sexy,” she exclaimed before lightly swatting his chest. “Bully.” She pouted and crossed her arms. Gods, did he love this girl.

“You don’t have to try for me. I already think you’re the sexiest woman alive.” He kissed her pouted lips and watched as it melted away into a tiny smile. Yet another point for the young man. “Can I still take you up on that teal offer?”

She peered back at their friends, still having a ball before looking back. Something told him that they’d be doing a lot of one-upping for the next few hours.

A/N: God this took so long 😧 There’s bits of fluff. Lots of my headcanons at work here (sorry if Ren is a tad OOC, I tried). I totally think that Ren and Nora have little battles of one-upmanship before it dissolves into either laughs or kisses. Mostly playful fluff with implied NSFW after the ending. Jaune and Pyrrha are dressed as Kim and Ron. Ren and Nora are Drakkene and Hego. Ren’s costume is the same as Shego’s just for males (this is my way of getting out of drawing a trash illustration). The inspiration for Nora’s Drakkene costume came from my favorite Kpop group, Gfriend 😍😍😍, during their Fingertip era (link: https://www.gfsquad.com/forums/topic/2075-170306-starcast-gfriend-jacket-photoshoot-behind/). Dammit, every time I think of Hego, I think of He-man, then I start singing that dumbass song 😒😒😒. I need sleep.

[hate-spiked-blog]

danse macabre

Zaun had always been her type of city. Piltover was too controlled, too tight, to clean-cut.

Even for all of a wealthy Piltovian’s strict self-governance though, they loved to break the rules more than any other class of any other country she’d come across. The clan members were expected to uphold all of their family names’ caste and dignity, and that meant limited amusements. It was all tea time and museums and bland parties.

But those who dared rebel found themselves deep down in Zaun, for underground dancing rings. Zaunites had never cared for Piltovers pomp and flair. They liked it raw and unflinching and oh so many “nobles” from all around came in their disguises to raunch it with them.

She could always tell the difference between those who’d run the circuit for a while, and those who were fops in disguise. It was one of those nights where there was a whole lot of fop and very little substance. Eve enjoyed the dance as much as she enjoyed her line of work. In a lot of ways, it was her only hobby that didn’t directly blend in with assassination. So it was all the most disappointing when she couldn’t partake.

Dibna’s End was beating like a heart; music played on drums and woodwinds and brassy instruments filled the place like wine fills a glass. The room was hazed over in cigarette smoke that was illuminated in a bounty of colors from the changing lights above the dance floor. Despite the colors, the room was still plenty dark in the edges, and that’s exactly where she liked to lurk and observe. She supposed she should be grateful for the multicolored lights. People here would be either too drunk or too snuffed up on shimmer to realize her skin was actually blue, and it wasn’t just the light playing tricks on them.

A long fingernail, lacquered in crimson, stirred around the ice in her brandy. Amber eyes lazily roamed about the room. Yes. Too many rich Piltovians tonight. Not good for anything really, not even as a playtoy. She took her free hand from beneath her chin and dug about in her clutch for a new cigarette to top her long black and gold cigarette-holder with a new smoke. Upon replacing her cigarette, she was miffed to find she was matchless.

A hopeless masquerade-masked noble with a blonde taper cut (who’d been hovering over her at the able next to hers, the poor boy) leaned over to her. He had eyes like a doe she’d once eaten. He flicked his lighter on for her and she lit her smoke without meeting his gaze. Her eyes wandered across the crowded floor once more. This time, her golden gaze was mirrored by green.

Her lips parted slightly, and the shiny black end of her drag hung from her bottom lip.

This one...He was a thing of beauty. Too rough to be Piltovian, too clean to be Zaun. The perfect mix of both. He was brilliantly manicured in ever sense of the word; not a strand of his length black hair or fold of clothing was out of place, even in this shitty dive bar. Perhaps now, she’d finally be able to work out some tension. She rose, drawing away from the lighter at the end of her drag, and the blonde next to her audibly pouted. Her reached for her hand tipsily, his palm flat on her table. Her attention drawn elsewhere, Evelynn removed the drag from her mouth and stubbed out the embers on the back of his hand. He yelped and she hissed.

“Be silent and watch my purse.” She dropped her drag and it clattered to the table. She music changed as she walked past all of the tables to the dance floor. hips swayed back and forth, clad in something slinky, short, and black. She lost him for a moment when a large gaggle of giggling women swooped in front of her. She wiggled her fingers at the height of her hip as one brushed into her. She wouldn’t know until later that her dress had been shred, as if by razors. When she caught his location again, he’d seen her rise and had gotten up himself, and had thrown whatever was in his hand onto the table. Cards? Good. She liked those who were willing to gamble.

The lights shifted above them into red. Her dyed magenta hair muted, but her skin lit up, purple under the illumination. The lighting hung to his aquiline nose and high cheekbones, and it shined off of his hair like water. They both spun and wound around other dancers until they were toe to toe.

“Keep up with me,” she demanded plainly, her clawlike nails gently grazing up his lapels to rest on his shoulders “I’m fast.”

“Ain’t met a one yet I couldn’ match.” He drawled, leaning down to say it in her ear as the music shifted with the red light to something quick tempoed and seductive. She found she liked the accent, but couldn’t place it. Definitely not Noxian or Demacian, thank the spirits. “I’m fast m’self.”

He gripped her hip to emphasize, and she smirked into his neck despite herself. It had to be the alcohol. Some woman breathily began to sing on a microphone, and then they were off.

To be fair, even if he was beautiful, she expected him to be a disappointment like all the others. He was not. His feet moved just as fast as hers, in perfect time. He held her close to him, and he only released for her to part from him and flick her wrists to the music. Then, she was back on him, her free hand occasionally left his shoulder to stroke his abdomen (partly for the dance, and partly to explore brazenly) when he dipped her over his leg. 

He was fervent, and she was ravenous. For the first time, in a long time, everything melted like candlewax. She threw her leg over his lip and flicked it back out again, and his lengthy and delicate fingers found the shapelier parts of her hips to support her. He certainly was brave, this one. Or stupid. Either would work for her. 

Neither would notice when people began to watch them. They wound intricately between the other dancers, charged with a flame she’d never felt. He lowered his leg and she sat on it and leaned back, and she didn’t even try to bite when his hand moved up her torso to her neck. He spun her out by the arm, and pulled her back in again. This was no normal tango. She’d never been this close to a partner in the dance. Tango was sexy enough as it was, but this was clothed sex on a dance floor. Twirls, toe-drags, leg lifts...all pressed against a beautiful stranger. He ended the song by lifting her to his waist, legs around him. his hand held her lower back, and she tilted forward to kiss his neck before leaning backwards, her back arching like an alleycat's.

Coincidentally, her back would be arched a hell of a lot more, later when they ascended the stairs to the vacancies above.

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

X-Files Fic: What Was Taken, What Was Lost- Chapter Four

This chapter is rated “M” for explicit sexual content.  I know, you’re all so shocked and scandalized, aren’t you?

Previous Chapters: One | Two | Three

There are voices at the very edges of Mulder’s awareness, one very familiar, one less so, pricking at his consciousness, seeking to drag him out of the peaceful slumber into which he has fallen.  It’s warm where he is, comfortable, though he knows, somehow, that the warmth is wrong, a dangerous illusion.

“MULDER!”  Even through his fog of confusion and lethargy, he recognizes Scully’s voice, hears the panic and terror that tug at his heart.  He knows he should answer her, knows he should call out and draw her to him, but the only sound he can force through his lips is a weak, breathy whimper.  His arms and legs refuse to obey his commands to move.  He feels weighted down, unnaturally heavy, unable to think clearly.

"You’re dying.  Just let it happen.”

The cold, cruel whisper comes from beside him, from somewhere just outside of his peripheral vision… but he doesn’t need to see to know who’s speaking to him.

“No,” he croaks, gasping at the pain the single word costs him.  The voice chuckles heartlessly.

”She’d be better off without you.  You know she would.”  He doesn’t dispute this, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to let her go.  Not this way, not by force.  ”It’s too late, anyway.  Feel how warm you are?  How sleepy?  That means the end is almost here.”  He knows this already.  He’s perfectly aware that the snow that’s blown into his lap should not feel like a comfortable quilt, that the wind on his face should feel like a sharp slap and not a gentle caress.

“Why are you doing this?” he whispers hoarsely.  “What do you want?”

”I want what was taken from me,” the voice hisses.  ”But you can’t give me that.  No one can.  So I’ll settle for your life, instead.”  The sinister laughter fills his ears again, and at the same time, he hears Scully’s voice, further off.  She’s moving away from him.

Mulder thinks of her face in the hospital, when she had come out of Emily’s room for the last time.  He remembers the dullness in her voice when she’d told him that it was over, the way she’d shied away from him when he’d tried to embrace her, how she’d simply asked him to please find her some information on local funeral homes while she went to call her mother.

He thinks of the pain in her face at the church, the anguish, the confusion of the empty coffin, the way she hadn’t been able to bring herself to put her cross back around her neck for well over a week.

He remembers her face when she’d come to his motel room at night, how she’d clung to him, how she hadn’t been able to meet his gaze as she’d mounted him, no matter how much he’d tried to get her to look him in the eye.  He remembers how badly he had wanted to help her to feel better any way that he possibly could.

If she wants to leave him, to save herself, to spare herself the heartache he seems powerless to stop visiting on her, she can leave.  But he will not leave her.  Not like this.  Not in a way that is guaranteed to bring her even more pain.

Mulder summons every ounce of strength he has left and pulls his legs up, out of the frozen crust of snow that’s settled over him.  He draws them into his body and pushes up, leaning back against the gravestone behind him… but he gets no further before his legs give out and he falls.

“Mulder, where are you?”  Scully’s voice is closer again, and Mulder knows that his only hope is to get her to hear him.  He’ll never be able to walk back to the hotel on his own.  He hitches in his breath, feeling the cold air burning in his lungs.

“Scully,” he rasps.  No good.  She’ll never be able to hear that, even though the wind has died down.  “Sc-Sc-Scully!”  Better… but still not loud enough.  He takes his deepest breath yet and gives it one more try.  ”SCULLY!”

“Mulder?”  She calls to him, closer this time.  He can hear branches snapping in the woods, coming nearer and nearer.

“H-h-here,” he calls, frightened at how exhausted the effort of speaking has made him.  “I’m here, Scully!”  He senses more than sees her crashing into the clearing- turning his head would take more energy than he’s got left- and he hears her anguished cry as she catches sight of him.

“Mulder!  Oh, my God!”  At the edge of his hazy vision she appears, dropping down in front of him, a look of absolute panic on her face.  He can see that she’s touching him, running her hands over his arms, his face, but he can’t feel anything.  His skin is almost completely numb.  “Come on, Mulder,” she says, sliding an arm under his shoulder and trying to lift him.  He does his best to get his legs underneath himself, to push off the frozen ground, but his limbs are heavy, logy, refusing to obey his commands, and he’s much too tall for Scully to lift on her own.  She seems to come to the same conclusion and stands up.

“Hang on, Mulder,” she says, unzipping her heavy winter coat and pulling it off.  She drapes it over him, tucking it in as best she can, shoving at his legs until his knees bend and his limbs are tucked in close.  She pulls her knit hat off and yanks it firmly down around his ears.  “I can’t carry you back on my own.  I’m going to get help, okay?”

“No,” Mulder moans.  “Sh-sh-she’ll come back.”  Scully frowns, confused.

“You’re hallucinating, Mulder,” she says.  “We need to get you inside as quickly as possible.  I’ll be back soon, but I need you to try and stay awake, okay?”  He tries to protest, but she’s gone before he can force his frozen lips to form the words, dashing away into the woods, back towards the hotel.

Stay awake, he tells himself firmly, repeating her words over and over.  Stay awake, stay awake, stay awake.  But it’s much easier said than done.  He feels more exhausted than he’s ever felt in his life, and with the warm, down-filled parka draped over him, with Scully’s soothing scent surrounding him, his eyes begin to close again almost immediately.

In no time at all, Mulder feels himself being lifted clear of the gravestone.  Scully is at his right- he can just make out the bright red of her hair in the moonlight, now that the storm is over and the clouds have cleared- but he can’t seem to turn his head to see who’s at his left.

“We need to get him inside as quickly as possible,” Scully says.

“There’s a service elevator that housekeeping uses,” answers a deep voice to his left.  With his brain so foggy and confused, it takes Mulder a moment to place the voice as Gregory Pekarcik’s.  “We can use that to get him up to your room, and then we can call for a doctor… though with all the snow, and us being so far out, it could take awhile for help to arrive.”

“I’m a medical doctor,” Scully says.  “I’ll take care of him.  If we can’t warm him up, we’ll call for a life flight helicopter.  But he’s conscious, he’s got some limb control.  I don’t think it will be necessary.”

Mulder’s impressions of the next few minutes are confused and disjointed.  Scully and Mr. Pekarcik manage to get him back through the woods, across the grounds, and into the hotel, Mulder helping as much as he can with what little muscle control he has.  He finds, as he moves, that his legs regain some strength as he works the muscles, and within minutes of being in the warm hotel, some of the feeling begins to return to his cheeks.  With it comes a sharp, burning pain.

Mr. Pekarcik offers his own apartment, since it’s closer, but Scully wants Mulder in their bed so that she can keep watch over him as long as necessary.  The elevator in the back of the building takes them up to the third floor, and soon enough, he’s being carefully lowered to sit at the edge of the bed.  Scully immediately begins yanking at his sodden pajamas, undoing the snow-crusted buttons on his shirt and gently guiding the sleeves down his arms, being careful in case his skin has frozen to the fabric.

“I’ll go and get some more blankets,” says Mr. Pekarcik.  “And I think there are space heaters downstairs in the utility closet- I could bring one of those-“

“No,” says Scully, cutting him off.  “He needs to be warmed up gradually.  Excessive heat could cause his contracted blood vessels to dilate too quickly.  It could cause a heart attack.”  She glances up at the owner.  “But extra blankets would help.”  Mr. Pekarcik nods and disappears out the door, leaving Scully to continue undressing Mulder.  She has him lie back on the bed so that she can remove his pajama pants and boxers, then helps him wriggle his way up to the pillows.  She tucks the quilt tightly around him, then disappears into the bathroom, returning with several thick, fluffy bath towels, which she layers on top of the blankets.

“Ev-ev-everyth-th-thing h-h-h-hurts,” he moans, shifting uncomfortably in bed.  He feels as though his entire body is being pricked with hot needles, and he’s begun to shiver again, shaking so violently that his teeth clack together.

“It’s your circulation returning to normal,” says Scully, sitting at the edge of the bed and laying a hand alongside his cheek.  “It could be painful for awhile.  But you’re shivering again, and that’s a good sign.”  The door opens, and Mr. Pekarcik re-enters, arms full of quilts and fluffy down duvets.  Scully takes them from him and begins to spread them out over Mulder.

“Is there anything else I can get you?”  Scully turns to look at Mr. Pekarcik, shaking her head.

“No, I think we’ll be all right,” she says.  “I may come in search of some tea in a bit, when he’s up to drinking it.  May I use the kitchen?”

“Of course,” says Mr. Pekarcik.  “It’s locked up right now, but I’ll speak to the desk clerk and he’ll let you in and show you where everything is.”  He steps back towards the door.  “I’m so sorry about this, Mrs. Foster.  I truly am.”  Scully looks up at him, frowning.

“Mr. Pekarcik, whatever happened here tonight, I sincerely doubt that any of it was your fault,” she says.  “I have no idea how my husband ended up out there, but I can’t think of any way you would be to blame.”

“Things like this keep happening,” Mr. Pekarcik protests, shaking his head sadly.  “Mr. Foster isn’t the first person to wander outside in the snow for no apparent reason in the middle of the night.”  He rubs his temples.  “With as many times as something like this has happened, I’m beginning to think that maybe I should have stuck to my original plan of owning a small bed and breakfast.”  He gives himself a quick shake, smoothing his features back into his helpful smile.  “But please, ignore my ramblings.  Don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything at all, Mrs. Foster.”  And with a quick bow, he leaves, shutting the door behind him.  Scully turns back to Mulder.

“What the hell were you doing out there, Mulder?” she demands, and Mulder winces at her tone.  “Outside in the middle of a snowstorm, in your pajamas, barefoot?”

“It was her again, Scully,” Mulder says, and Scully’s eyes instantly narrow.

“If you tell me you went out there ghost-hunting and didn’t even have the sense to put on shoes first-“
 “No, it wasn’t her at first,” Mulder says.  “I woke up because someone was calling my name outside.”  He huddles down under the blankets, away from Scully’s skeptical stare.  “It was like a dream, almost, but… it wasn’t.”

“Who was calling you, Mulder?” Scully asks.

“It was Samantha,” he whispers.  “Outside, in the grass, calling me to come down.”  Scully’s face softens.

“Mulder….”

“I looked out the balcony doors, and it wasn’t the hotel grounds I saw.  It was the backyard of my house, the house I grew up in, and it was daytime, the sun was out, and Samantha was telling me to hurry up because she had something to show me.  And it… it was just so real, Scully, that I didn’t think.  I didn’t hesitate.  I ran downstairs and out the door.”

“So you dreamt you saw Samantha,” Scully says.

“Not a dream,” Mulder says firmly.  “Not really.”

“It couldn’t have been anything else, Mulder,” says Scully.

“I’m telling you, it was her,” Mulder insists.  “She got in my head, Scully.  She used a vision of my sister to lure me out there, to get me away from the hotel, into the woods, into that cemetery… and then Samantha vanished, and suddenly it wasn’t the woods near my house anymore… and she was there.”

“It still could have been a hallucination,” Scully says stubbornly.

“Think about it, Scully,” Mulder says.  “One person has already wandered away from the trail and frozen to death.  Another went out onto the lake in the middle of the night- in his pajamas, barefoot, just like me- and fell through.  How did they get there?  What would cause a person to walk more than two hundred yards through the snow?”  Scully bites her lip, thinking.

“And you really didn’t feel the cold?” she asks.  Mulder shakes his head.

“Not until the vision was over,” he says.  “And then it was all I could feel.”  He looks at her imploringly.  “You have to believe me, Scully.  This ghost, this spirit, whatever she is, she’s luring people to their deaths.  And I’m almost certain she talked the suicide victims into killing themselves.”  At the memory of that cold voice, telling him that he was going to die, he shivers even more violently.  Scully immediately looks concerned.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, her voice tender now.

“Like I just can’t get warm,” Mulder says.  “Can’t stop shivering.”  He takes a deep, shuddering breath and closes his eyes.  “Dizzy, too.  Drowsy.”  Scully stands suddenly, kicking her shoes off, and begins to peel off her clothing.  Mulder peeks his head out from under the covers, interested in spite of himself.  “Scully?  What are you doing?”  By the time he’s done asking the question, she’s naked, and there’s a sudden influx of cold air as she lifts the covers, climbing into bed next to him.  She scoots close, molding her body to his, and slides her arms around him, cradling his head to her breast.

“Body heat, Mulder,” she says, by way of explanation.  “You remember, don’t you?”  He chuckles into her soft skin, pressing closer for warmth.  Even through the stabbing pains are still racing up and down his limbs, she feels heavenly.

“And it didn’t even have to rain sleeping bags,” he says.  She laughs and threads her fingers into his hair, stroking him gently.  “Hey, Scully,” he says, glancing up, “does this mean I’m about to get lucky?”

“Mulder,” she says, rolling her eyes, “you were found, at two o’clock in the morning, inches from freezing, in a graveyard in the middle of the woods, all because I just happened to wake up needing to use the  bathroom and noticed that you were gone.  I’d say you’ve already used up your allotment of luck for today, wouldn’t you?  Besides,” she continues, sliding one smooth leg up and over his hip, “I would be shocked if you were in any condition to do anything like that right now.”  She’s right, though he’s loath to admit it; just the fact that he’s not responding to her naked body at all right now, when he frequently can’t stop certain parts of him from responding to her while she’s fully clothed, is enough for him to know that.  “Just sleep, Mulder,” Scully says, pulling his head against her breasts again.  “I’ll be right here.”

And somehow, in spite of his shivering, in spite of the needle pricks of pain all over his skin, eventually, he drops off.

This time, he does not dream.

————————————

Mulder wakes up flat on his back, sweating so heavily that the sheets under him are damp.  Scully’s warm weight is sprawled atop him like a human blanket, and lying over both of them are at least five heavy quilts.  He’s incredibly uncomfortable, his mouth is dry, and his head is pounding, but he discovers that the last thing he wants to do is to move and risk waking her up.

That night in the motel, when she had come to him, when she had climbed onto his lap as he’d sat against the headboard, he’d known, somehow, that she wasn’t going to be there in the morning.  He’d hoped, of course, to be wrong… but waking up alone in a bed that still smelled of her- of them- had not been a shock at all.

Now, in spite of the fact that their skin is stuck together with sweat, in spite of both of his legs being asleep where her weight is resting on him, in spite of the strands of red hair that are plastered to his cheeks and tickling his nose with each breath, Mulder discovers that waking up with Scully in his arms is every bit the slice of heaven that he’s always imagined it would be.  He badly wants to savor it (and to let her sleep- this is the second night in a row she’s had to get up at some ungodly hour to take care of him, and the sun’s not even fully risen yet), but he really needs to use the bathroom, and her weight on his stomach isn’t helping matters any.  He tries to ease himself out from under her slowly and carefully, sliding one limb off of his body at a time, until finally, she’s lying flat on her stomach on the mattress.  She sighs softly and rolls over, but doesn’t wake.

Mulder stumbles to the bathroom on weak and aching legs, feeling for all the world like he’d spent the entire night binge drinking and is now suffering from the mother of all hangovers.  He uses the toilet, washes his hands, and, for good measure, splashes some water on his face, which helps him feel slightly more human.  He returns to the bed to find that Scully has not stirred, and before getting back in, he removes all but the bottom quilt, folding the others and piling them on the dresser.

Mulder slides under the covers and spoons up against Scully, who stretches, catlike, and rolls onto her back, opening her eyes and looking up at him sleepily.  He braces himself, expecting her to jump out of bed immediately, the way she had the previous morning… but she surprises him by giving him a drowsy smile, rolling on her side to face him, and cuddling close.

“You look much better,” she says, stroking his cheek.  “Your color’s back to normal.  How do you feel?”

“Like I spent last night at a raging kegger,” Mulder says, closing his eyes under her gentle touch.  He runs his fingers lightly up and down the velvet skin of Scully’s waist, suddenly fully aware that she’s still completely naked under the quilt, that the tips of her perfect breasts are brushing against his chest, that she’s draping one smooth leg over his hips to pull herself even closer.

Scully looks up at him, her eyebrow raised, lips quirked in an amused smile.  “You can’t be feeling that terrible, clearly,” she says, pressing up against him.

“I think we’ve established, after last night, that I literally have to be on death’s door before you stop having this effect on me, Scully,” he murmurs, reciprocating the pressure of her hips with a gentle thrust of his own.  Scully closes her eyes and gasps.

“We shouldn’t,” she whispers, her own fingers betraying her words as she runs them over his chest and shoulders, buries them in his hair.  

“Give me one good reason why not,” Mulder says, bending and placing a line of nibbling kisses along her jaw.

“You… you almost died last night, Mulder,” she gasps.  “You need to rest… to recover… to… ohhhh….”  She moans as he slides a hand down between them, brushing his fingers lightly against her clitoris, sliding one finger slowly inside of her.

“I’m not saying you won’t have to do all the work, Scully,” he says.  “I’m just saying… we can.”  He withdraws the finger and Scully whimpers, chasing it with her hips.  “Unless you don’t want to.”  She looks up at him, her blue eyes flaming, and without another moment’s hesitation, she rolls him onto his back.  He’s momentarily dizzy and he closes his eyes, hoping she won’t notice, worried she’ll put a stop to this immediately if he gives any sign at all that he might not be up to it.

But if she does notice his momentary discomfort, she says nothing.  She straddles his thighs, sliding her body along his to warm him in the sudden absence of the quilt, pulling herself higher when she gets to his shoulders, until she can reach his face.  She kisses him deeply, grinding her hips against him.  He groans into her mouth and seizes her hips roughly in his hands, lifting them, pulling her into position; then, his lips still on hers, his tongue still in her mouth, he takes himself in one hand and uses the other to pull her down, bringing her hips flush against his in one smooth upstroke.

Scully sits up abruptly with a gasp as he fills her, closing her eyes and dropping her head back.  She stays still for a moment, adjusting, and he gives her a moment to acclimate.  After a few seconds, she opens her eyes and looks down at him.  Her gaze is burning, her lips are parted, her nipples stand in tight little peaks, and Mulder knows that, if he weren’t still weak from his ordeal the night before, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from flipping her onto her back and pounding into her for all he’s worth.

As it is, he badly needs her to move, and he closes his hands back around her hips again, gently urging her to lift.  She arches her eyebrow at him.

“Impatient, Mulder?” she asks, a wickedly teasing smile playing at the corners of her lips.  In answer, he uses what little energy he has to lift her up, just once, and bring her back down- hard.  She yelps in surprise; then, lightly, she smacks his hand.  “Don’t do that,” she admonishes.  “You’re in no condition to be lifting me up.”

“Then for the love of god, Scully, move!”  She laughs at his desperation, but all the same, she begins a languid, rocking rhythm, bringing him relief at last.  He keeps his hands on her hips until she takes one, bringing his fingers just above where they’re joined, coaxing them into the same circular pattern she had shown him their first time, asking him for a favor he's only too willing to grant.  When he’s got it right, she lets go and leaves him to it, closing her eyes and tilting her head back again.

With Scully doing all of the heavy lifting, Mulder is free to watch her, to take in every detail of her appearance in a way he hadn’t had the chance to before.  He admires the curve of her narrow waist, the muscles of her lean thighs, her elegant neck, the way her collarbone perfectly frames her shoulders, white with a smattering of cinnamon freckles spread haphazardly over them.  She’s poetically beautiful, her movements atop him lithe and graceful, her legs more than strong enough to move her with no assistance from her arms… which is good for her, because it leaves her hands free to fondle her breasts.

Good for Mulder, too.

He begins to rub her harder as she pinches her nipples, much more sharply than he would ever dare to.  She circles her hips atop him, hitting new places, finding new angles, and they both groan in unison as she discovers one that’s perfect for both of them.  Abandoning her breasts (Mulder bites back a disappointed whimper), she leans back, putting her hands on his thighs to hold herself up, rocking faster.  Mulder, in turn, speeds up his hand to match, and before long, she’s bucking against him without any set rhythm, lost to the feel of him inside of her and of his fingers against her.

Sensing that she’s nearly there, Mulder stops trying to hold back his own climax- which has been threatening to overtake him since the moment Scully’s hands touched her breasts- and allows it to build.  As exhausted as he still is, he can’t seem to stop his hips from thrusting, trying to meet her erratic movements, and in seconds, it does the trick, and she’s crying out, tightening around him, triggering his own release.  He grasps her hips and moans something incoherent that might be her name- his powers of speech have taken a leave of absence- and empties himself into her as she falls across his chest, panting.

Mulder struggles for words, trying to find something to say, anything, that will forestall Scully getting up as soon as she’s got her breath back, something that will keep her in bed with him instead of running off to hide the way she had after their first time… but before he can work out just what those magic words might be, his exhausted eyes are drooping, and moments later, he’s fast asleep.

———————————

When Mulder opens his eyes for the second time, the room is flooded with sunlight, and the clock on the nightstand tells him that he’s missed breakfast- has, in fact, slept until lunchtime.  He knows without looking, by the coolness of the sheets next to him, that Scully is gone, and it’s with a heavy, unhappy sigh that he rolls to face the empty space she’s left behind.

“Hey,” comes a soft voice, and Mulder sits up quickly, startled.  Scully is sitting in an armchair next to the bed, her feet propped up on the mattress, one of the scrapbooks from the library open on her lap.  “I was going to try to wake you soon if you didn’t get up on your own.  How are you feeling?”  Much better, seeing you, he thinks, but he keeps it to himself, knowing the eye-rolling such a comment would likely trigger.

“Not bad,” he says, and it’s the truth.  The pounding in his head has receded somewhat, and he’s no longer dizzy.  “I still feel weak, like I’m recovering from the flu… but I don’t feel hungover anymore, so that’s an improvement.”  Scully smiles, satisfied.

“You’ll probably feel even better once we get some food into you,” she tells him.  “I put in an order for lunch to be brought up to the room.  It should be here any minute now.”  At the thought of food, Mulder’s stomach gives an audible grumble, and Scully chuckles.  “Not a moment too soon, it would seem.”  Mulder pulls himself to a sitting position, leaning back against the headboard and tucking a pillow behind himself.  Once he’s situated, he pats the mattress next to him, and Scully puts the scrapbook down, smiling indulgently.  She crawls across the bed to him and he tucks her under his arm as she rests her head against his chest.  “Sorry I couldn’t stay in bed any longer,” she says.  “I just wasn’t sure how much longer you’d be asleep, and I thought I should use the time wisely.”

“I’m just glad you were still here,” Mulder tells her truthfully.  “I wasn’t sure you would be, after last time.”  She stiffens in his arms, and he immediately regrets his words… but after a moment, she sighs and relaxes again.

“I owe you an apology for that, Mulder,” she says.  “After you fell asleep that night, I sort of panicked.”

“Why?” he asks.  She glances up at him, her face red, her eyes nervous.  “Scully,” he murmurs, stroking her cheek with his thumb, “you can tell me.”

“I was worried….”  She pushes herself to a sitting position, breaking their contact, and looks down, biting her lip.  “I was afraid that maybe… you had only done that with me because you felt sorry for me.   Because of what happened in San Diego.”  There’s a beat of silence, and then Mulder can’t help himself: he laughs.  Scully frowns at him.  “It’s not funny, Mulder,” she says.

“It kind of is, Scully,” he says, trying to be serious again, not wanting to offend her.  “Because I was afraid that maybe you’d only done it because you needed comforting.”  She stares at him, and moments later, she’s joined him in his laughter.  

“Maybe,” she says, shaking her head and chuckling, “we should have talked about all of this first.”

“Now why on earth would we want to do that, Scully?” asks Mulder, reaching out and taking her hand.  “Us, talk candidly about what’s bothering us?  What kind of insanity is that?”  Scully stops laughing abruptly.  Shit, Mulder thinks.

“You really feel that way?” Scully asks.  “That we don’t talk?  Don’t communicate about things that upset us?”

“I think that sometimes, we don’t,” Mulder says carefully.  “I think, for example, it would do both of us a lot of good to talk about what happened in December.”  Scully’s face is closed off so quickly, Mulder may as well have flipped a switch with his words.

“That’s different,” she says, pulling her hand away.  “That’s something I have to get through, Mulder.  You can’t help me with that.  It’s something I need to learn to live with.”  It’s not the first time she’s said it, but the words don’t hurt any less.

“I just mean, Scully, that if you could see that I-“

“Mulder, no.”  Scully stands, crossing her arms firmly over her chest.  “I think that right now, we should focus on the case.  That’s what we’re here for.”

“Scully-“

“Where do you want to start today?” she asks, her tone making it clear that the subject is closed, and Mulder heaves a sigh.  He can’t force her to talk about this, but sooner or later, he’s going to need to find a way to make her understand how he feels.

“I’d like to go back out to that cemetery,” he says, giving in.  Scully frowns in confusion.

“Why?” she asks.

“That gravestone you found me sitting against… I felt such a pull towards it, like the spirit, or the ghost, or whatever she is, wanted me to be there.”

“I saw Mr. Pekarcik when I went down to order your lunch,” says Scully.  “I asked him about that cemetery, and he says it’s where they buried some of the girls who died giving birth here.  Apparently, some of their families didn’t bring their bodies home because the churches that their families belonged to felt that it would be wrong to bury them in a Catholic graveyard.”  Mulder shakes his head in amazement.

“So much for the idea of forgiveness,” he says.  “I want to go back out there and see what name is on that headstone.”  Scully smiles, looking suddenly smug.

“We won’t need to,” she says.  “I saw the name last night when we pulled you out of there.  The woman buried in that grave was named Olivia Westphal.”  She turns and picks up the scrabook, flipping it open to a page she has marked.  Mulder sees a familiar newspaper clipping.  “I looked through here to see whether that name showed up, and I found this article about a young woman who had died here.  She’s named only as Olivia W, presumably because her parents didn’t want their last name associated with this place.”  

“I read that article yesterday,” says Mulder.  “It didn’t say how she died, only that it had been a ‘sudden tragedy.’”

“Something tells me that that’s code for ‘suicide,’” says Scully darkly.

“I think you’re right,” says Mulder, holding his hands out.  “Let me see that.”  Scully puts the scrapbook into his hands, and he flips through it.  “I remember that last name from something else in here, Scully,” he tells her.  “You read it to me yourself, yesterday, and I read it again after you left the library.”  He finds the letter he’s looking for and holds the book up for her to see.  Scully gasps.

“The father who wanted the home to lie to his daughter, to tell her that her baby had died,” she says.  “And then to let the child be adopted.”

“Signed,” says Mulder, pointing to the bottom of the page, “by one Michael Ian Wesphal, of New York City.”  Scully turns suddenly, crossing the room to the dresser.  When she comes back, she’s holding the Catholic home’s record book, the one that details every girl who had passed through their doors.  She opens it to a bookmarked page.

“I looked her up, while I was waiting for you to wake up,” she says, pointing to an entry near the top of the page.  “Look: Olivia Westphal, admitted on September sixth, 1939.  She gave birth on March first of the following year… and look.”  She points a shaking finger to a large letter “A” next to the baby’s birth date.  “They gave her baby away and told her that it was dead,” says Scully, “and she killed herself out of grief.”

“And her parents left her here,” says Mulder angrily.  “Rather than bring her body home and allow their shame to be known.”  He looks up at Scully, whose eyes are wide.  “Well,” he says, “I can’t think of a better reason to haunt this place, can you?”  She shakes her head.

“I’ll admit that it all fits, Mulder,” she concedes, “but I’m not ready to accept the idea that a ghost is responsible for this.  Not without proof.”

“Well, Scully,” Mulder says, “you’d better go back downstairs and order a whole lot more coffee.  We’ve got a long night ahead of us tonight.”

[faeyuri]

Tag You’re It!

I was tagged by: the sweet @kymbawee! <3

Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people.

LAST…

Drink: Strawberry sparkling water.

Phone call: My significant other <3

Text message: My mother, lol

Song you listened to: Strangers - Halsey ft. Lauren Jauregui

Time you cried: approximately 4 hours ago.

HAVE YOU…


Dated someone twice: Nope, usually when I go through a break up we go our separate ways completely.

Kissed someone and regretted it: Nah, I’ve not had any bad experiences kissing.

Been cheated on: Yup, it wasn’t a good time--but he was an asshole anyway.

Lost someone special: A few times, yeah.

Been depressed: Depression has found it’s way into my life multiple times.

Gotten drunk and thrown up: I’ve never actually thrown up while drunk but I have had horrible hangovers.

Made new friends: Sure! I am a shy potato but I am friendly!

Fallen out of love: yeah, but not any time recently.

Laughed until you cried: Laugh crying is my favorite past time.

Found out someone was talking about you: Lmao, yeah.

Met someone who changed you: Mhmmmm.

Found out who your friends are: Multiple times, yeah.

Kissed someone from your Facebook list: A couple or so, yeah.

Kissed a stranger: Nope.

Drank hard liquor: Yep, mostly when I was a teenager though. I’m not much of a drinker these days.

Lost glasses/contact lenses: I lost my glasses at my old workplace a couple of years back.

Turned someone down: Yeah, didn’t feel good to do it though, he was a close friend.

Sex on the first date: Never.

Broken someone’s heart: Apparently? At least they told me so.

Had your heart broken: Yeah, no hiding that.

Been arrested: Nope!

Cried when someone died: I’ve cried when people close to me have passed.

Fallen for a friend: Who hasn’t?

Kissed on the first date: Nah bro.

GENERAL

List 3 favorite colors: Light Pink, Violet, and Crimson Red. (didn’t list Black because that’s just a given)

How many Facebook friends do you know in real life: Most of them??? I have a couple of online friends over there but only the ones I am super close to. 

Do you have any pets: Yep, two dogs and my cat.

Do you want to change your name: Nah, it’s not so bad.

What time did you wake up: I wanna say I was up by like...8:30 am?

What were you watching at midnight last night: I wasn’t watching anything then, I don’t think.

Name something you can’t wait for: To move in with my sweetheart (it’s drawing nearer!)

When was the last time you saw your mom: About an hour or so ago.

What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: My current money situation.

What are you listening to right now: Paper Thin - Astrid S

Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Nope, but my best friend had a cat named Tom once.

Something that is getting on your nerves right now: my luck in general.

Most visited website: Tumblr, GOSSAMER, Twitter, Ao3, Amazon...lmao

Mole/s: A couple

Mark/s: Some beauty marks here and there, handful of scars and such. 

Childhood dream: I wanted to be a musician.

Do you have a crush on someone: I’m in love with my significant other, so I guess you could say that lmao.

What do you like about yourself: 
About the only thing I can say I like about myself is my boobs, and even those get on my nerves a lot. I’m a mess, tbh.

Piercings: I have the left side of my nose pierced and my ears. (I want more, but we won’t talk about that)

Blood type: B+

Nickname: Keii, Kaydie, Kaydie cat, ect.

Relationship status: Taken by keobkeikeu <3

Zodiac: Capricorn

Pronouns: She/Her

Favorite TV show: If we aren’t talking anime then I gotta say it’s a toss up between Supernatural and RuPaul’s Drag Race (two totally different things, I know but shhh)

Tattoos: I’m a tattoo virgin currently but I have a few in mind.

Right or left hand: Right handed~

Surgery: HA, I just recently had gallbladder surgery a couple weeks back. Other than that, I had surgery on my hip when I was only six.

Hair dyed in different color: Yep, I am currently rocking my natural color (mousy brown) but I am normally one to dye my hair dark red. I have had it black once and also purple--which I am thinking about doing again soon.

Sport: I’ve never played any, lmao I am not that coordinated.

Vacation: I’ve been a handful of places but I would really like to see Cali...and I’d love to visit Japan too, but that’s dream I don’t see being plausible lol. 

Pair of trainers: Nope, I don’t own trainers lol.

Current and all-time best friend name: other than my s/o, the name of my best friend from childhood who I will always hold near and dear is Eve.

Eye color: Gray/Blue (changes from time to time)

Favorite movie: This is rough, but I wanna say probably any given Harry Potter movie--I can’t choose.

WHICH IS BETTER?


Hugs or kisses: I like kisses more, but hugs are wonderful.

Lips or eyes: Eyes.

Shorter or taller: Taller

Nice arms or stomach: Stomach? 

Sensitive or loud: Sensitive, too loud will make me nervous.

Hook up or relationship:Relationship, please.

Troublemaker or hesitant: Either or, but I lean more so towards trouble makers if you look at my past.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN…


Yourself: LOL no.

Miracles: Somewhat.

Love at first sight: Kinda????

Santa Claus: Not since I was about 8 years old.

I now tag:

@keobkeikeu, @otasucc, @otadick, @meikaruza, @spacefragments, @venenix, @blameotayuri, @viktorniliforv, @babypeche, @cominatchacleopatra, @plisetsky-is-mine, and whoever else wants to do this mess because honestly I don’t know who else to tag currently! 

[looselucy]

MA / 4615 words

A series of one-shots - Read the first here

Childhood friends - NYE 2016

Part One

One morning, late July, I had woken to see that Harry Styles was slumbering beside me. He had looked beautiful, with his newly cut hair tousled and falling over his face, his breathing slow and pushing through his parted lips. The silent sun was overflowing into my room through my sheer curtains, giving an ethereal glow that made love to his soft features, gliding down his jaw and curving over his lips. He looked stunning. On New Year’s Eve, I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.

He’d left me with a final, chaste kiss and a dopey smile on his face, and we’d fallen back into old habits, where we didn’t talk or text or even really acknowledge one another at all. Things went back to normal, and I continued with my life like nothing had ever happened. He just started crossing my mind more. Despite our childhood together, and his great fame, Harry Styles never used to cross my mind that often. Whenever I saw the Daily Mail talking shit about him or heard one of their songs, I had wondered how he was doing, but it was never much more than that. After spending a night with him, he crossed my mind so much more. I’d find myself thinking of his lips daily, or his hands, or his voice. He began crossing my mind more than any other person in my life did. In all honesty, it was slightly infuriating. And on New Year’s Eve, it just got worse. He’d made me promise that I would leave Swanage and make an appearance in Holmes Chapel to enter the New Year, and he’d promised too. I should have been seeing him that night, but I also knew that it was likely that he’d left for London or LA to continue with his interesting, extravagant life. I’d heard he was around, but I’d seen no evidence myself. I kept unlocking and locking my phone again, laying on top of the single bed in the room where I had grown up, surrounded by shoddy drawings and teddies and a poster or five of Westlife, debating whether I should text him or not. Then my phone lit up in my hand. Haz: Little Lulu Lamb? “No fucking way.” I gasped, bolting upright. “No. Fucking. Way.” My heart fluttered at the thought that maybe Harry had been doing the same thing, sat with his phone in his hand and fighting the thoughts of texting me or not. My stomach was in tatters. Lulu: Who’s this? Changed my number in the hope of getting that Harry Styles lad off my back. Haz: Don’t blame you. Real twat that lad. I felt sick. It was almost frustrating the feelings he could force on me in just a few words. It was something I was totally unfamiliar with. I wondered how he felt when he thought of me. Lulu: He really is. Ugly too. Haz: That just hurts. (You’ve been hunt down, by the way. It’s me. Harry.) Lulu: What an unfortunate turn of events. Haz: I was just wondering if you’ve kept your promise? Lulu: I was wondering the same thing about you. I don’t know why I was so eager for him to still be around. I didn’t know how things would be between us, other than bloody awkward. What had happened that night was totally sporadic and spontaneous, and he probably regretted it as soon as it ended. I can’t say I was expecting a repeat, but I still wanted to see him. I wanted to be around him, to know how things would be between us. I just wanted to see him. Haz: I’m around. Supposed to be going to a house party. Lulu: Me too, I’m going with my mum round to her friend Carols. I think it’s going to be relatively tame. Haz: That’s where I’m going. Lulu: What? Seriously? Haz: She’s my auntie. So I’ll see you there. Lulu: I hate coming from such a small place. There’s no avoiding you, is there? It sometimes felt like joking with him and faking was the only way I could actually interact with him without just gushing and fanning myself constantly. I was grateful we’d be drinking again, because when he’d entered my home, I’d barely been able to function around him until we opened the first bottle of wine. He was captivating, in the type of way that eased me and put me on edge at the same time, like somehow he was both the calm and the storm. Haz: You’re stuck with me now, Little Lulu Lamb. Sorry. Lulu: I suppose I’ll see you tonight then. Haz: I suppose you will.

Part Two

I swear, his eyes lit up as soon as he saw me. He was stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, watching a woman with fascination in his eyes as she spoke about something or nothing, and I watched as his head lifted, almost like he’d been checking the doorway and just waiting for me to arrive. His teeth showed almost instantly, his dimples digging into his cheeks, and the colour of my own cheeks may as well have dyed the entire room pink. I was pretty much glued to my spot as I watched him politely bid his farewells and remove himself from the conversation, changing his wide grin to a tight smirk. He was dressed head to toe in black; a simple black shirt, black skinny jeans, and some heeled boots that gave him an extra boost of height that he didn’t necessarily need. “We meet again.” He smirked. “We do.” There was such a palpable shake in my voice, and I was ten times more nervous than I had been when he appeared at my front door in July. I raised my drink to my lips immediately, hoping it would play its role quickly. “You look amazing.” He commented. Of course, I then choked on my drink, quickly diminishing his compliment as red wine jammed down my throat and splattered into my face, rapidly whipping the glass away from my face and grimacing profusely. He was calm and chuckling as he hit my back a few time, staring down to me with an endeared grin as I attempted to find some control, wiping the wine off my face and despising myself. “For fuck sake, Haz.” “What?” “Don’t compliment me!” I demanded. “Why?” “Because it makes me… weird. You make me weird.” “Well, I’m sorry.” He held up both hands in surrender. “I didn’t realise I had that effect on you.” “I actually think you’re well aware of the effect you have on me, and you love it, and that’s why you do it.” He shrugged, a cocky look on his face as he tried to act nonchalant about the fact that I knew his damn game and it was entirely successful. He reached his hand to my face, gently rubbing his thumb to predictably get rid of a little splatter of wine that I hadn’t caught, eyes low. “Told you before… I like the colour you go when you blush.” He shrugged. “Looks good on you.” I slapped his hand away, scowling playfully at him and wondering where our night would take us. I attempted to drink my wine again, successful the second time around, hating that he held himself so close to me and looked down at me like that. He was insistent on making me weak and it fuelled him to see me struggling. “Where’s your drink?” I asked him. “Don’t have one.” “Don’t tell me you’re not drinking.” I groaned. “It’s barely fucking eight o’clock! I’m taking it steady, give me a chance.” He fought. I shook my head at him, my wine glass pressed against my bottom lip and disappointment in my eyes, and I stayed that way until he cracked, rolling his eyes and grabbing my hand and dragging me through to the dining room. We barely had a foot through the door when I heard an almighty squeal. My mother came bounding over to us with her arms already outstretched, just waiting to grab at Harry’s cheeks, which she did as soon as she reached him, pinching them and squishing them, but I swear Harry looked so damn happy. “You get taller every time I see you!” She squealed. “It’s the boots!” I butt in. “Don’t expose me!” He cried. “Nice to see you again, Susan.” I filtered out of their chat pretty quickly, my mum dragging on about how proud she and the whole village were of him, and about how she could still remember the first time I brought him around to our house and he’d called her Miss Lambert all night, no matter how many times she insisted that he call her Susan. I completely zoned out, and I just looked at him. I watched the way he interacted with her, his eyes full of kindness and his cheeks still a little pink from where she had grabbed them. I’d never been the type of person who could be casual with people. Maybe an all of nothing type of person. Harry was the first person that I’d spent one night with, had casual sex with, but I didn’t think it mattered. I didn’t think I’d see much of him. I thought maybe we’d go years without seeing each other again. I could be casual with Harry because I had to be casual with Harry. Watching him interact with my mother, recalling the childhood we’d spent together, I felt the fucking opposite of casual.

Part Three

“Can I kiss you? At midnight?” Harry asked me. “I… I… What?” I mumbled. “Well we’ve done it before, might as well do it again.” He shrugged. We’d been glued at the hip all night, probably annoyingly so. We caught up with one another’s families, old friends, Harry had taken some pictures with people he didn’t know as well, and finally started drinking at some point, but we’d barely spent five minutes apart. We’d laughed and joked and talked and I’d eased with each passing second. It was almost like he got bored of my irregular calmness, and wanted to ruin it again. “You want to kiss me?” “Or I could go and find James Turner for you. I’m sure he’d love to make that rumour a reality.” I smacked his arm playfully, knowing that we were only a few minutes away from the countdown, meaning we were only a few minutes away from the kiss he was suggesting. I looked anywhere but into his eyes, glancing out to the room around us. “You don’t want to kiss me.” I shook my head. “Don’t I?” “It takes one person in this party who’s a fucking prick, to take a photo of us kissing and sell it on. Then even fucking Holmes Chapel is tainted for you. I’d hate that.” He moved so he could infiltrate my vision, standing dead ahead of me and making sure that I couldn’t avoid his gaze. I looked up to him hesitantly, seeing the strange look his face, like he was confused or contemplative. His brows were knitted tightly together, his lips almost pouted, slowly emitting a heavy sigh. “Little Lulu Lamb, I’ve actually never wanted to kiss you more than I do right now.” “Wh-what?” “That trust that I spoke about with you… back in July. It’s just… I dunno.” He dropped his head. “I’m just glad I was right. It’s nice to have someone I know I can trust. Weird, but nice.” People were beginning to flock towards the living room, pushing past us as we stared at one another, kind of ignoring the bustle around us as people prepared to group together and enter 2017. Once again, I thought about how much of an honour it was to possess his trust, and how I’d do anything to keep it. I wasn’t sure why he felt that way with me, but maybe there was just something between us, something we didn’t even really need to speak about, something I didn’t really need to prove or voice, but more just something he could feel. “I’m glad you trust me.” I choked, eventually. “So… No kiss?” “Unfortunately not.” He smiled, then ticked his head towards the crowd. “C’mon, lets join the troops.” We made our way to the crowd, Harry halting me at the back of the group by pinching his fingers at my waist, stood just behind me and pulling my body back into his. I could just about see the footage of London on the TV through the crowd, but when it reached the sixty second countdown, Harry began to snake his arms around my waist, balancing his chin on the top of my head, and I was sure things around me genuinely started to blur. He was holding me like we’d been that way together a million times, like our bodies just fit together naturally. It was such a simple way for our bodies to link, and yet it still made me feel woozy. I lolled my head back just slightly, flopping it against his chest and closing my eyes, his hands on my stomach making me feel sick, in the best, most confusing way imaginable. I joined in for the ten second countdown, trying to cloak the fact that I was near bloody breathless, and aching as his arms tightened even more, and he lowered his head so it was hovered over my shoulder, the two of us cheek to cheek. It took all my might not to turn my head and kiss him as soon as it struck midnight. My stomach jolted even more, watching the entire room erupt into happy celebrations, people hugging and kissing and sharing in the moment. Harry moved his lips to my ear, and his hot breath warped over my skin, goose-bumps working their way over my entire body. “Do you want to know what I’d been doing to you if we were alone?” He spoke, quiet enough to only reach my ears. “Harry-” I gasped, closing my eyes. “I’d have my lips on yours, my hand up your dress, my fingers feeling how wet you are for me. Because you are, aren’t you?” “Yes.” I whispered shakily. “Feel how hard I am for you.” He lowered one hand, pushing at the bottom of my stomach so my hips moved backwards, my arse pressing to his groin, feeling his dick pressed hard within the fabric, straining the material and pushing against me. My breath caught in my throat, pushing back even more without even meaning to, feeling the way his dick felt against me, and how that made me feel in return. “If we were on our own right now, I would be fucking you. Hard.” He continued. “You’re all I’ve thought about for months. I want to see you weak again. I want to see you on your knees.” I almost started whimpering, trying to be aware of our surroundings but just wishing we were on our own somewhere, back in my flat in fucking Swanage so that he could be doing everything he wanted to. He was thriving off the fact that he could say all this in a room full of people without being heard, where he could push me to my limit and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. The room was beginning to calm down once more, so he took his final opportunity, gently latching his teeth on my earlobe, tugging harshly before completely detaching from me, leaving my stumbling back, my legs shaking. He came around and stood ahead of me as the room began to disperse, grabbing the bottle of beer from my trembling hand and taking a smug sip. “You’re going to kill me.” I managed to splutter. “Me?” He faked. “I didn’t do anything! I just wished you a Happy New Year!” “I hate you.” “I don’t believe that for a second.” He passed me my beer back over, holding it out low for me so that when I went to reach back for it, I had to look down, see the bulge in his jeans. His moves always seemed to be so calculated, so thought out, it made my head spin. That thought, and the sight, of course. I whipped my head back up to see his face, the way he lifted his brows, and smirked once more. “Am I that transparent?” I shuddered. “I can read you like a fucking book, Lamb.” I shook my head, forcing down a smile and hoping my cheeks weren’t once again turning into that colour he loved so much. “If I’m a lamb, you’re definitely a lion.” My words made him grin, sending the smile out towards the rest of the room momentarily before looking back to me, wetting his full lips, and once again leaving me breathless.

Part Four

“Can you believe we used to do this every day?” He tittered. He was walking me home, just like he used to do after school, when we’d wander down these same streets together, being just as mean to each other as we were then, pushing and poking fun. I would have never thought that we’d be doing the same thing so many years later, especially after everything that had changed. “It’s weird to think… Ten years ago, we were doing this same thing. Except, not drunk.” I giggled. “Fuck… That is weird! We’ve known each other for far too long. I should be bored of you by now.” “Bored of me? Do you get bored of people?” “Some.” He shrugged. “I think it’s one of the worst things about me. But… I don’t really have a middle ground. The ones who stick… they’re there forever, y’know?” “So when do you think you’ll get bored of me?” I asked, my heels clasped between my fingers and my bare feet slapping on the concrete. “I’m not sure I will, that’s the thing.” I shook off his words instantly with a shake of my head, because before that night and before July, we’d gone years without talking to each other. I didn’t think it was out of boredom, but more that the two of us could just naturally fall apart, and then fall back together. I wasn’t the type to stick. We were pretty quiet as we finally reached my home, the two of us looking up to the building I had grown up in, Harry digging his hands into his pockets. “So,” He swallowed. “Are we saying goodnight now? Or… is there still some of the night left?” “My room is bright pink and I have a single bed. I also have five Westlife posters.” “Fan of boybands?” He sneered. “Only Westlife. The rest are shit.” “Fuck you.” “So… I would love to, but… I also think that I would be so fucking embarrassed that I couldn’t fully enjoy myself.” I sighed honestly. “So…” “Lulu, please tell me you know that people often fuck in places other than bedrooms.” “What?” I gasped dramatically. “I had no idea!” He rolled his eyes at my sarcasm, running his tongue over the top row of his teeth, hiding a smile. He took a steady step towards me, eyes alight. “How many rooms does this house have that aren’t pink, and don’t have any Westlife posters?” “Uh… more so than do.” I quaked. “Then… maybe we could use one of those?” “And if my mum walks in?” I raised my brows. “Well… let’s hope she doesn’t grab my cheeks this time.” I let out a breathy laugh down to the floor, wishing I had some more gumption and an ability to say no to him, but I didn’t. I would have loved to be able to leave him hanging, wanting me and thinking of me, teasing him in the way he had done me all damn night, but I couldn’t. “Fine.” I sighed, defeated. “Come on then.” I got to see his satisfied smile grow before I turned on my heel, walking down the driveway and through the front door, locking up once he was finally indoors with me. “It looks exactly the same.” He sniggered. “Susan Lambert doesn’t like change so much.” I told him. “Do you want a drink?” “Yeah.” My mother was still at the party, thankfully, meaning the two of us didn’t need to whisper or hush our experience, and meaning that we had the house to ourselves, hopefully for as long as we’d need it. I walked into the kitchen, Harry on my heel as I approached the fridge, grabbing us both a bottle of beer before moving to the counter, reaching for the bottle opener in the hope of cracking our beers open, but my efforts fell flat. Harry appeared behind me, pushing my body with his so my hips crashing with a thud against the kitchen counter, his hands automatically moving to lift my dress, gathering it around my stomach as his lips worked down my neck, pushing himself against my bum. “I can’t explain how badly I want you.” He mumbled to my skin. “I can’t explain what you do to me.” He grunted against my neck, licking and biting sweetly at my skin, completely trapped between his tense body and the counter, moaning alongside his harsh touches, the bottle of beer falling from my hand and crashing onto the worktop. His fingers hooked through either side of my lace knickers, my neck snapping back. “Rip them off.” I gasped. “Harry, rip them, please.” The sound of the material snapping almost made me scream, Harry cursing harshly in my ear as he scrambled to undo his zipper, gasping and rushing through the process until I felt his hand push down at the top of my back, my body almost horizontal on the counter as he hitched my dress up one last time, and forced himself into me. “Fuck!” He gasped his relief. “Holy fuck.” He reached to lace his fingers through my hair before he began pushing, removing himself right to the tip before he’d thrust back into me, his grip on my hair hostile and beautiful. Pleasure worked its way through my body, biting my bottom lip and trying not to scream, my hipbones hurting as they crashed into the counter over and over again, likely to be leaving bruises but I didn’t even care. He felt amazing, fucking into me like that with no caution, no calmness. He fucked me like he was desperate, lost within the different man he became when it came to sex, the harsh contrast of the soft boy with the beaming smile to someone else, someone who would grip my hair and bend me over and fuck me in the way he did. I’d never known anything like it. He pulled at my hair, starting to drag me so that I was upright. I followed his lead, turning my head as he forced his lips onto mine, grunting fiercely to me, his hands moving to grab my waist. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” His rough love spurred my honesty. “Do you touch yourself, when you think of me?” “Yes.” “Show me.” I screamed as he turned my body around, picked me up by my waist and placed me onto the counter, spreading my legs for me as I lifted my dress to show him my wet heat, reaching down to myself as he took a step back so he could watch me clearly, the moonlight beating in through the window as he took hold of himself, licking his lips and pumping his hand. I closed my eyes and lost my senses, rubbing over myself with speed, my body jolting and my moans feeble, before hesitantly opening my eyes again, watching his quick movements as we pleasured ourselves in front of one another, his teeth trapping his bottom lip and his brows low. I fell silent as I pushed myself to finish, my whole body sparking shakes in a thousand different areas, feeling faint and lost for a moment before he spoke. “Taste me.” He groaned, his head falling back and his mouth falling open. “Please just… fuck.” My legs couldn’t carry my weight as I dropped from the counter and back onto the floor, trembling as then fell to my knees in front of him, grabbing my left hand around his leg so I could keep myself upright whilst my other hand reached for his dick, replacing the same movements of his hands for a few moments before I widened my mouth and took as much of him as I could, near choking on the size of him. His fingers once again found their way into my hair as I moved around him, slacking my jaw and tracing my tongue over the perfect lines of him, the taste bitter but sweet, a new form of pleasure working through me. The sound of his moans inspired me to look up to him, seeing that he was already looking down at me, and when our eyes met like that, he finished, his warm pleasure exploding into my mouth, gluing against my tongue and my tonsils. I pulled away so that he fell from my mouth, swallowing the juices as Harry fell down to his knees, cursing to himself once he was on the floor with me, weak and tired. Both on our knees, we stayed that way for a while, trying to breathe steadily, and my eyes kept flitting back to him, noting how perfect he looked whilst coming down from his high, and with sweat glistening his perfect skin. I giggled to myself as I fell even more, sprawling myself over the kitchen floor, facing the ceiling with my hand laying on my chest, feeling the way it crashed against its cage. Harry soon joined me, the two of us smiling together, side my side, gazing up to nothing. We lay that way for a while before he spoke. “I like us together.” He was still struggling to catch his breath. “What?” “We work well together.” “Fuck. I… Yeah. I guess we do.” Another few minutes passed, the two of us silently calming, the cold tiles warming beneath us as they became accustom to our bodies. Harry then lifted himself, leaning his weight on one elbow so he could gaze down to me, his temples pulsing. “You should come and see me.” “What?” “I’m gunna be in London for a while now. You should… come and see me.” “I… I don’t know.” “You don’t know?” He chuckled. “That just… feels intense.” “As opposed to tonight, where we’ve been really casual.” He joked. I broke eye contact with him, rubbing my hand over my eyes and trying to wrap my head around what he was suggesting. “You know what I mean.” I huffed. He moved my hand, forcing me to look back into his eyes, and I bit back to the truth. I refused to tell him that I couldn’t just feel casually about him, or see him as a friend I fucked occasionally. Going to London to see him couldn’t have been a wise option. And yet, that charm he possessed made him particularly hard to say no to. “Come and see me.” He said again. “Please.” He smiled a little, lips stretching into a shape I had to admire, still so pink then even the dark room couldn’t cast a shadow upon them. I closed my eyes, letting out a soft giggle, still shaking my head but caving. “Okay.” I sighed. “I’ll come and see you.”

[arkandeve]

Let the purge begin!

 Drowning in a sea of kid’s clothes?

Let the purge begin!

   Jessica Brook, founder of sustainable children’s   clothing label, Ark & Eve, reflects on her journey   through early motherhood, and why simplicity   and sustainability now guide her decisions.

  “It’s a girl!!” she said holding up four different outfits with matching shoes, socks and bows.

  This was me at 18 weeks pregnant with my first child. An ecstatic mess of hormonal tears every time I even walked past a remotely cute outfit for my unborn baby girl. Little did I know she wouldn’t grow hair to tie up with the ribbons I bought, for at least the first two years of her life. I had not anticipated she would inherit my ‘wider foot’ and would never comfortably fit her first, or second, pair of converse sneakers. How could I have possibly foreseen that dresses were just not her thing and being anything other than naked for the first 18 months of her life was just not an option.

  The Confession

  I had been collecting, some call it hoarding, clothes for my children long before they were any more than just a dream. A not so secret cupboard dedicated to neither gender specific clothing ranging from newborn to seven years was perfectly normal. Wasn’t it? 

Now, digging a little deeper, I noticed an unhealthy sense of satisfaction when I added to the collection. Two years of counselling and a husband who was now having to find space in the garage for his unmentionables, led to the realisation that my childhood spent being teased about the clothes I wore had manifested into a serious overcompensation for my own little people.

  Fast forward five years and the kids clothing rack isn’t getting any smaller.

  Add another little bundle of joy, a serious downsize on cupboard space after relocating to a tiny Queenslander (which I will add, has no built in’s what so ever), and I still have size seven red skinny jeans waiting patiently for my kids to get some wear out of them. Not to mention the full blown fashion obsessed five-year-old that even with an erupting chest of draws still has ‘nothing to wear’ (insert eye roll). The abundance of clothes, the morning meltdowns when choosing something to wear, the never-ending washing, drying, folding and washing all over again, was getting a little… ok a lot, out of hand. 

It can happen top the best of us.

  The most recent NATSEM report shows parents and carers on a typical middle income pay up to $22802 on clothing for children from birth until they finish their education. This is more than health ($22708) and education ($22322). 

  Not only are we spending a huge amount on clothing for our children each year, Aussies are sending 85% of textiles to landfill. 

“Australians buy an average of 27 Kilograms of new textiles each year and then discard about 23 kilograms into landfill – and two thirds of those discards are manmade, synthetic, plastic fibres that never break down.”  https://textilebeat.com/aussies-send-85-of-textiles-to-landfill/

With the option to buy kids clothes online at out fingertips, major chain stores selling unethically manufactured t-shirts for $3 a piece, and a large percentage of people throwing clothes out after a couple of wears, the fast fashion dilemma can sometimes seem overwhelming and too big to tackle, much like the wardrobe in the children’s bedroom. 

   Time to intervene…the capsule wardrobe

  “As I have aged, my sense of what I like has become clearer, my actions have become more earth conscious…”

  While the kids wardrobe had been ever expanding, mine had been getting smaller. As I have aged my sense of what I like has become clearer, my actions have become significantly more earth conscious and the literally sickening feeling I experienced if buying unethical, unsustainable items pushed me to have an unintentional capsule wardrobe. 

  Let the purge begin!

   With a little bit of gentle encouragement, and persuasion, a few items began being donated to charity. A few more were given to friends and family who needed them. A few more were put away to be handed down… and unpacked a hundred times over the course of their lifetime, when I’m feeling sentimental about how tiny they once were.

  4 Piles to guide the purge.

  Keep Pile:

Does it get worn regularly?

Is it sustainable? Quality is important when washing becomes more frequent with a capsule wardrobe. While some styles at cheaper chain stores are really very lovely, I have found that they can’t last more than a couple of washes before they lose their shape, shrink or pill. We aim to buy less and buy quality.

Is it comfortable? This includes the cut, the size, the material, ease of wear.

Can it transfer between seasons? Can it be easily layered?

Can it be transferred between siblings – boys and girls included.

Donate Pile

Still has plenty of wear left.

These items don’t get worn regularly.

The clothes no longer fit.

Generous second hand clothes you may not have room for.

Reuse Pile

Use for cleaning rags.

Convert to dolls clothes.

Use the natural materials in your compost.

Keep some for painting shirts or mud pie making clothes.

Sentimental

Something special. I have a few hand-made pieces that both my grandmothers made for me when I was little. These have been worn by my children and may even be worn by theirs.

Some special moments pieces. I have kept the I dressed my babies in on the day I bought them home from hospital.

Other beautiful pieces from special brands that may be passed down to the next generation.

      Our aim is to simplify, reduce, choose carefully, invest in quality and say no to the things we don’t really need.  

  From obsession to donation 

  My, lets be honest, ‘obsession’ with children’s clothing has now transformed into something I’m very proud of, Ark and Eve. We are a sustainable and ethical option for kids clothes online, using only natural plant dyed fabrics, practical designs that grow with your child, and quality construction to ensure their longevity as they are handed down. We include Ark & Eve in our capsule but also hold a few other brands very near and dear. But more on this later…

  Sarah Lazarovic’s Buyercrchy is a great place to start when building a capsule wardrobe for your children   

    There are plenty of sustainable, high quality options when buying baby and kids clothes online. In Australia we have more and more labels taking ethical and sustainable responsibility. Also the recent trend of selling pre-loved children’s clothing through Instagram has opened up opportunities for many people to pass on beautiful pieces at a reduced cost and is an accessible option for those buying second hand clothes that have been carefully curated.

  For my daughter of five.  

  This is her entire wardrobe for all seasons. I have tried to include everything we actually have and ours is by no means perfect.

Dresses x 7 (Dresses are her favourite). She wears them every day. We choose designs that can be layered for winter, are well made and use natural fibres.

Skirt x 2

Shorts x 2

Shirts x 5

Jeans x 1

Tights x 4

Sandals x 1

Boots x 1

Sneakers x 1

Underwear x 10

Swimwear x 2

Socks x 8

Singlet x 3

Hat x 1

Jumper x 2

Raincoat x 1

Parker x 1

We also have a collection for extracurricular activities such as a karate gi, ballet leotard, snow clothes and quite a big dress up basket… which I have been told by my daughter, is off limits for the purge.

No one comes between a five-year-old and her Queen Elsa dress, right?

  We care a whole lot about the clothes we create, if you would like to add a piece from our collection of sustainable children’s and babies clothing to your child’s capsule wardrobe visit www.arkandeve.com.au

    If you would like to hear more about our ongoing journey in sustainable fashion join our mailing list www.arkandeve.com.au